#Rhaena looks ethereal
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witchthewriter · 8 months ago
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𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧; 𝑆𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝑇𝑤𝑜
I’m so overwhelmed by the House of the Dragon trailer and the photos and the theories and the new hair and the DRAGONS and UGH.
THE NEW DRAGONS!
Sunfyre!
Looking very similar to Syrax tbh ... I cannoot wait to see him in the sun. He's supposed to be so PRETTY.
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Moondancer!
The mount of Baela Targaryen - bbys grown up! She looks a bit reptillian like in the face and we haven't really seen that in the other dragon designs and I'm here for it!
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I'm not 100% sure but I think this is ...
Dreamfyre!
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The mount of Helaena (and other Targaryens, Dreamfyre is very quite old). I hope she's more blue in the sunlight - oor maybe this is Vermithor??? What do you guys think?
THE NEW LOOKS!
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Rhaenyra wearing her hair up seems to be the new look now. Out of her face, ready for battle, ready to take her rightful place.
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Alicent doesn't seem to be wearing her more ... modest clothing. The last time we saw her, she was dressed with a large pendant of the Seven Point star (faith of the seven). To me, it feels like she's unravelling. Her faith seemed put on, and now her focus is entirely somewhere else.
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Daemon back with the long hair; personally my favourite. Anyway, anyway, the trailer hinted at the battle between Aemond & Daemon... I have no idea how this is going to play out but I trust the creators.
THE NEW CHARACTERS!
(ew aegon)
These must be new members of his small council?
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Jace going to the Starks for aid. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. I can't wait to see these interactions.
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I really don't like this relationship. Mostly becaise I don't like Criston Cole. But I do think Criston has moved into a bit of a stepdad-like position for Alicent's children. Well, at least Aemond and Aegon. It's also insinuated that Alicent and Cole have a sexual relationship.
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And look at my poor lovely Helaena, we know what's going to happen... I hope her story changes in some way. She deserves justice, and to have more screentime for the character. She's way more interesting to me than Aegon - he's so dry, boring, awful.
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LOOK AT MY GIRLS, JUST LOOK AT THEM! Amongst the council, wearing the colours of their father's House. Baela & Rhaena are my sweet girls.
(can't believe all this is happening because rhaenyra & alicent were in love...)
photo cred: Dae on pinterest
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bayofwolves · 4 months ago
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he looks like a weird stray dog i love him so much
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earth4angels · 5 months ago
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𝐂𝐨𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐜 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫
modern!jacaerys x ballerina reader ─── first clumsy kisses on the bleachers, fluff, MAJOR FLUFF, jace is a little piece of shit in the beginning, aegon is the best friend we all need sometimes, blind date, jace acts possessive - major simp too.
summary: it takes a very braggy best friend who says he is the best cupid to ever exist for you to finally accept a blind date. however, you did not expect to cross paths with the one male who everyone wanted, a reputation of a lady-man but what could be worse? right?
a/n: this one i do want to make a series but i'll see how it's treated first so pls lemme know. listen to lovesick by laufey as you read (trust me)
jace tag list: @jacaerysgf @star611, @jules420, @gracexthoughts, @astrxq, @reyndaisy , @hxtd , @smurfelle , @nanaldy @valdezthg @littleblackcatinwonderland @nixtape-foryou @starrgurl46 @ethereal-athalia @stelleduarte @canyonmoon-2 @ambrosia-v-black
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"Y/n, again. You are not lifting your leg high enough!"
You turned your head to look at your dance teacher who stood behind you, with a scolding face. You sighed, already irritated that you had to skip your friend's home welcoming party for practice.
As the music started playing again, you twirled. Your feet glided through the marble floor, the music becoming you, and for a while, you created a storyline with every bounce, and twirl you made. The final note was played as your body twirled then bent upward with your hands elegantly stretched outwards.
You looked like a painting and the few lookers that were in the room with you stared in awe. You breathed heavily through your nose as you remained in the final position until your instructor spoke.
"Amazing y/n! I feel like you hit the emotion straight in the face! I think we're done here," your instructor said, "Get out of here, enjoy the weekend off, I will see you Tuesday morning for the last rehearsals. Your audition will be on Saturday, do not forget!"
You smiled giddy that you could go early as you missed your best friend. He was finally home after visiting his grandparents, and though you and he stayed connected through Facetime, you longed to hug him.
"Thank you, Miss Royce, I will be there!" You scrambled to grab your bag; you bounced in your ballet shoes as you fell onto the floor untying the laces at a rapid pace. Your phone rang then, and you sighed in annoyance yet still picked up the phone.
"Hello?"
"I cannot believe the one person that I wanted to see the most is not here. What do you take me as?" Aegon whined making you smile widely.
"Aegon!!!! I promise! I finished practice early! I'm heading over to you as fast as I can!" You slipped on your ballet slippers moaning softly at the difference between your pointe shoes and your soft slippers that relieved the pain on your feet.
"You better! Helaena and Aemond are bitching off my ear how you're not here!"
At that, you heard the voices of his siblings yelling over the phone asking about your whereabouts. You laughed at Aegon yelling, "that's MY best friend you idiots! Quit bothering!"
"Hurry! You don't have to call or anything when you arrive, the door is opened, just come to the back!"
You laughed again, hanging up after saying your goodbyes. Your velvety nude sling bag bounced with every running step you took as you ran to your car.
The house was lit up in pretty lights, you figured it was Helaena's doing along with Rhaena's, they were always the decorators when it came to parties. As you parked your car in front, you moved towards the door finding yourself hit with strong alcohol and loud music.
A scream was heard and then you were suddenly surrounded by long limbs. You huffed as the breath was taken from you, "Ooof!"
"I can't believe you are here! I have missed you so much!"
You moved your head back to see who had hugged you and when you saw their face you squealed. Both of you now bouncing, squealing together like young girls.
"Oh my gosh! Hels! You look so beautiful!"
Helaena rolled her eyes, "You are so much more beautiful! I have missed you so much, I will never leave longer than 2 months I promise!"
You hugged her tightly again muttering into her chest as she was taller than you were - how much you missed her.
"Come, the boys would want to see you!"
As you were taken to the backyard of the house you found yourself with a large crowd of people, you realized this was no longer a small gathering but rather a party. You scoffed, ah Aegon. You arrived at a ping pong table where Aegon was playing against Aemond, cheers were thrown left and right every single time they landed a shot.
You quietly stood in the middle of the table, eyeing the brothers' match, grinning softly at them throwing insults at each other. You knew it was all child's play as you knew they loved each other, but they were competitive.
"Fuck! Seven hells! You cheated!" Aegon exclaimed as he missed the shot, Aemond smirked shrugging his shoulders.
"Tough luck brother, now are you taking the shots or are you too wuss to?"
Aegon sneered, yet he never backed down, he leaned forward and grabbed all six shots, one by one they went down his throat. He shook his head and lifted his arms up as the crowd went wild. Aegon screamed with them as he was smiling boastfully.
You cleared your throat, "It's come to my attention that the jackass has not left you."
Aegon turned towards you, his soft uniquely lilac, with green-tinted eyes glimmered with joy, "Oh how much I missed you!"
You laughed as he swung you around in a tight hug, Aemond ran towards you as you were now wrapped in a group hug.
"I missed both of you idiots."
Aemond clicked his tongue, "You missed me more though, right?"
Aegon scoffed, "Shut your big chin up, again, she is MY best friend."
Your head moved from his face to Aemond as they bickered, your smile never faltering, "I missed both of you, I can't believe you guys left me for so long... I hate your mom for sending you to Oldtown."
Aegon huffed as he stuck a tongue out to his brother who did it back, "Careful babe, mom will punish you by denying you any sweet treats she bought you from home."
You gasped, "No way?" Aegon smiled as he nodded, "She bought me back treats? Why!? She didn't have to!"
Helaena who snuck her way into the group with a shot glass in her hand shoving it to your hand and nudging you to drink, "Mom loves you. I think she still wants to hook you up with Aegon."
You swallowed the tequila down, feeling the burning sensation for a few seconds before you and Aegon exclaimed together, "EW."
"She's like my sister."
"He's like my gay best friend I can never!"
Aegon stopped, before he looked at you in shock, "WHAT?"
You smiled teasingly, "Kidding," you whispered to Helaena who was grinning from the playful jabs both of you were making at each other, "Maybe."
"Okay, enough of that, let's have fun and we will catch up later, y/n sweetie, you will stay over tonight! No exceptions!"
You groaned as you got pulled into the crowd towards the homemade bar by Helaena. You did not remember much from that night besides maybe dancing too much, and accepting a body shot from some guy named Jake, or perhaps it was Jace? All you remember was how soft his lips were and how his arms held your thighs as he held you against the ping-pong table.
You groaned sitting up from the soft pillows, your head spinning in endless swirls, "Oh god... I am never drinking again."
"Sure, you're not."
You blinked, your head in your hands as you spotted Helaena next to you smiling at you teasingly. You groaned again falling back into the softness of the bed, scooting closer to her, making yourself in a small ball.
"Tell me how much of an idiot I was last night."
Helaena softly patted your hair, her finger combing through the rough tangles of your hair, "Ay. You didn't do much, you kind of deserved to have some fun. You are always practicing or studying."
"You know how badly I want to be a professional ballet dancer, I can't be a complete mess," you muttered into her chest where she continued combing your hair.
"You are perfect, not being a biased person here because you know, we're almost like sisters but I think you will be the best ballerina to ever exist, everyone will love you."
You kissed her cheek, muttering a soft thank you as you groaned again, hot flashes appearing, "Really though... how much of a clown was I?"
Helaena laughed then, "You practically made out with my nephew."
You shot up from her hold, your head spun again but paid no mind to the swirls, "Huh?! When?! I don't remember..." You trailed off mid-sentence as you forced your brain to remember said situation. You scrambled your hazy memories until it finally hit you.
You moaned in embarrassment as your hand gathered your forehead, "Oh... I remember... this is so embarrassing..."
Helaena laughed, "Relax, I think he won't remember either, both of you were pretty locked in though, until you..." She started laughing harder, "You vomited on his shoes."
You stared at her as she laughed, she was clutching her stomach from the ache that began to grow from the hard laughter she released. You sat in embarrassment, all the while you moaned from the pain and the shame that came to you.
You slapped your friend on the shoulder as she was heaving from laughing too much, "Hels! That's not funny!"
Wheezing she replied, "Relaaaax. I don't think you will ever see him again; my sister does not come around too much, she's busy running the family's business. So, chances of you ever crossing his path are 1 out of 10."
You hid in the pillow as the moaning came from the headache you were going through. What you did not expect was how quick you saw him again.
The library was calming, if there was any other place anyone would find you that was not the dance studio, you would be found in the library, reading. You slurped on your smoothie silently as your eyes scanned the words of the book, intrigued.
A rough bounce beside you made you gasp out loud, dropping your book onto the floor, your interruption grinning at you teasingly.
"Call me the best cupid to ever exist, I just got you a date!"
You rolled your eyes, picking up your book and settling back into the couch, your legs tucking under your behind, "No one asked, and no I am not going."
Aegon clicked his tongue, "I was not asking, I was informing you."
You looked up from your book, finding your best friend looking at you with mischief in his eyes, "Why would I do that? I am too busy anyways."
Aegon removed your book from your hands, putting it up in the air out of reach from your grabby hands that began to fight him.
"Exactly why! You are always practicing! You need a little spice, some drama in your life!"
You huffed as you gave up trying to get your book back, falling back to the couch and crossing your arms, "I am fine, thank you very much! I am fine being on my own, it does not interfere with my dance rehearsals, you know how much I need to nail this audition to be accepted to the ballet academy."
Aegon smiled softly, his blonde curls falling over his hazel, lilac eyes.
"I love you, y/n, I really do. But you need to get out there, you never know what you can come across with. Maybe it will be the best decision, maybe it will not. But the fact that you went through something new, is exciting. So please, enlighten yourself, go on one date."
Both of you stared at each other before you sighed, "Just one date? Then you'll leave me alone?"
He nodded rapidly, "Just one. Promise."
You leaned your head back, closing your eyes in thought, you figured, it wouldn't hurt to try having fun.
"Okay."
"Okay? Okay as in I will do it?"
You peeked an eye open finding Aegon bouncing on the couch in excitement, "Yes. I will do it."
He did a fist bump in the air as he cheered quietly, "I promise you won't regret it."
"Hopefully so."
Maybe it was a bad idea. The person who sat in the booth was in fact the person who you thought you were never going to see again. He sat with a sly smile. You were clenching your hands together in irritation, you found him incredibly annoying, yet he was so beautiful.
"Ah. I am so glad I came instead of Cregan."
You snapped your eyes up in anger, "What?!"
"Cregan was your blind date. Not me. He was just occupied sucking face with his ex-girl again that he did not come here, so I came. I wanted to see what prize I would get for being a best friend. I admit it is quite a treat for me."
Your hands itched to slap him but held back the anger that was filling your stomach, you almost wanted to cry but again, you held back. The male sitting in front of you crossed his arms, he was lean but muscular at the same time, he had very nice curls, and small but bright brown eyes that were easy to get lost in.
You were too into the drinks the night of Aegon's party to remember him but his lips... that you did remember. You blushed.
"Well," you cleared your throat, your eyes darting to the exit door of the restaurant, "this was fun, but I got to go for practice." You stood up, grabbing your bag and phone before a hand stopped you.
"Don't go. Look, I am sorry for being an ass. We can make use of the time and chat a little. If you don't want to stay after 10 minutes, I won't hold it against you. But I want to know you, I have seen you around."
You had two choices. Stay and get to know this guy or leave and swim in the shame of being stood up. You decided to hell with it, as you sat back down the booth slowly.
He smiled widely, his slight bunny teeth showing making you grin.
"My name is Jacaerys Velaryon, but you can call me Jace, everyone does anyways," he rambled, your lips quirked at the personality seeping out of him slowly. You introduced yourself, feeling a little flutter when he repeated your name softly.
The waiter came by to take your orders, Jacaerys was kind to ask what you wanted, recommending you the best choices. You felt more relaxed in his presence, he made it easy for you to open up. The food came in then, but the conversation never stopped.
He talked to you about his games, and his connection to your best friend. You found out he was in fact the co-captain of the soccer team. You heard a lot about the soccer team, how they hosted parties just to hook up with girls, or the famous captains that every girl wanted to make their boyfriends.
You grimaced at the thought you were now on the list of girls who he had dated. Shaking your head you continued to listen as you took small bites into your food, replying when asked a question.
"I have seen you. You dance very... pretty."
You choked on your pasta. His eyes widened as he reached out with a napkin whispering 'Oh shit, are you okay?' Your eyes watered but you gave a thumbs up.
"You've seen me dance?" You asked shyly.
"Have I seen you? Y/n, you are all they talk about in the halls. The next big performer of Westeros? You do not realize how much popularity you actually have do you? I have seen you once, practicing. You quite literally took my breath away."
Jacaerys muttered the last bit, he scratched his neck in shyness. You were practically red-faced; you did not dare to face him. His hand was placed on your right hand that was placed on the table, "I believe it though. You will make it big."
The flutters in your stomach made your toes curl, you wanted to hide and scream by the way he was staring at you. Jacaerys was grinning, his dimples showing slightly. He was beautiful.
"Thank... you?" you whispered, holding his hand now, watching him smile his hand now holding yours fully.
"You're welcome."
You did not want to admit it, but the date was in fact fun. You got to know him better as did he, you. You laughed at his attempt at making a whipped cream beard only for it to fall into his shirt and as he groaned, your heart fluttered. Jace, like he begged you to call him, was in fact the prime example of not judging a book by its cover.
When the check came, he quickly paid offering to take you home. In the car you sat listening to the radio in comfortable silence, you did not realize how much his hand twitched to hold yours.
"Well, we're here now."
You glanced at your home, silently cursing the time for going too quick. "Thank you for the ride, Jace. I had a lot of fun."
He smiled before it started to fade, you unbuckled your seatbelt slowly hoping that maybe... he would beg you to stay longer. He hesitated, your hand going for the door handle losing hope he was going to say something.
"Wait... y/n."
You reacted too fast for your liking, "Yes?"
"Meet me after the game? I'd like to take you somewhere."
You sat stunned before you stuttered, "As in... another date?"
His lips quirked to the side, the frat boy side slipping, "No. Just to hook up." That caused you to open your mouth to tell him off when he rolled his eyes, "Yes a date y/n."
You blushed; you did not know how much of his teasing you could take, "okay." You giggled into your hands as you closed your door, your cheek on fire holding a soft kiss made by the guy you never expected to make you feel so giddy inside. You hoped to see him again soon, and as you slept you dreamt of a curly, tall male with pretty freckles and brown eyes that looked like gems in the light.
You found yourself sitting in the bleachers surrounded by hordes of people. You had your ballet slippers on, your silk ballerina jumpsuit being covered by a skirt and a hoodie. You rushed after practice, sighing in relief when you only missed the first twenty minutes of the game.
Your classmates began looking at you not expecting to see you at a game. You never did come, Aegon begged you many times to go, to support Daeron who was also on the team. You always put practice as an excuse, but this time was different, Jace was playing, and he invited you.
You cheered whenever Jace scored, and as if he heard you, he would always throw his celebratory victories to you. Whether it was a wink or lame gun fingers. You jumped up and down as the team won their home game.
You waited by the bleachers, your feet dangling enjoying the chill of the night until you felt a jacket be dropped onto your shoulders. Jace sat next to you, his hair damped indicating his rushed shower. You sat in silence, his hands holding yours, with his thumbs caressing the front of your hands.
"Did you enjoy the game?"
You nodded, feeling too overwhelmed to speak.
"Let's make a deal yeah?" He leaned forward bending his head to face you clearly, your face growing hot when you spotted his bright brown eyes, from this angle you saw his freckles more clearly.
"Come to every single game of mine, and I will come to every dance recital, and rehearsal of yours. We will be each other's cheer squad."
Your heart grew warm, the appreciation and growing adoration for him becoming more intense. You only nodded, muttering a sincere promise as your hand reached towards his curls, brushing it to the side to avoid the droplets of water from his hair falling into his eyes. He grabbed your hand pulling you closer to him, your noses brushing.
You did not move as you did not want to seem desperate. You felt the minty breath of his, his hand holding yours as the other reached to cradle your face. You closed your eyes the moment you felt him move, your lips were wrapped with warmth, melting away every worry, growing the mass of butterflies that flew in your stomach. You met every movement of his lips, pressing yourself closer to him.
"Yo Jace! Quit making out! Are you coming to the party or not?" Cregan yelled from beneath the bleachers
You felt mutter a curse as you giggled. He pulled away still holding your hand, now intertwined with his. "Not tonight, I will be with my girl."
Cregan stopped, his jaw slacking, "Wh-at?" You even looked at him shocked. Jace only shrugged when he faced you before he looked towards his best friend, "Oh, and tell jack-ass Lannister that if I catch him sexualizing Y/n, I will beat his ass so bad he won't be able to play the playoffs."
Cregan only stood with his mouth open, shocked to see the one playboy who never wanted to commit to serious relationships in a deep make-out with a girl who he was serious about. Jace pulled you who was also stunned to his car, as both of you passed the still shocked Cregan, Jace patted him on the shoulder.
"Thanks man."
That night you sat in the back seat of his car, deep in make-out sessions, going over ice cream cones and listening to both of your favorite bands. As you sat wrapped in his strong arms you decided to question him your doubts.
"Why did you tell Cregan that?"
Jace hummed and if like he said nothing wrong, he responded lightly, "That we were together?"
You nodded, "And Lannister? What's that about?"
You felt him tense before he let out a big breath, "I plan to make you, my girlfriend. I can't stop thinking about you since I've met you. Lannister..." he huffed, "... is a jackass. A douche with no respect for anyone, if you ever cross paths with him or any of his goonies, turn the other way, and let me know if he ever does anything, promise me."
You swore you felt your heart wanting to explode, you wanted to confess your true feelings as well but felt too cowardly to do so, you only responded with a soft 'okay.' He pressed a kiss on your head, pressing you closer to his chest, you closed your eyes, hearing the soft thumps of his heart.
You fell harder for Jacaerys Velaryon that night, but you will never know how much he already loved you from afar. How when he saw you the night of Aegon's party he was shocked to see you there with a pretty light floral dress - he just did not expect to get so hammered like you were. And you definitely will never find out how Aegon texted Cregan the night after to meet you for a date when Jacaerys himself was using Cregan's phone.
You will never find out how quickly he deleted the message and went to meet you instead because this was finally his chance to talk to you, since you never turned your eye to him every time, he tried on purposely to catch your eye. You will not find out how he always stood by the door of your dance rehearsals seeing you twirl, and bounce as if you were flying in the air so prettily.
Jacaerys Velaryon has loved you deeply for a long time and he planned to love you always, you were the person he wanted to take to his mother and proudly say he wanted to marry you.
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astrxq · 1 month ago
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The Prince Among Spirits
jacaerys velaryon x ghost!reader
words: 16k
notes: Jacaerys encounters the ethereal ghost of a girl who embodies beauty and longing. Bound by an unbreakable connection, they navigate the depths of love and loss, exploring the bittersweet reality of their intertwined fates as they seek solace in a world beyond death. - i thought i'd like this a lot better but yeah… a bit of a spooky season fic. @earth4angels proofread this,, lomlism <33
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The air in Dragonstone always felt heavier than the other places Jacaerys had traveled. It wasn’t the salt or the wind, nor the way the clouds pressed low against the horizon, but rather something deeper – something he could never quite shake. Maybe it was the ancient history of the island, soaked into every stone, or the looming presence of the dragons that had made their home there for generations. The weight of legacy.
He grew up with it, after all. The weight of expectation.
As the eldest son of Rhaenyra Targaryen, Jace had always understood what was asked of him, even before he fully understood why. He was to be a prince, a protector, and eventually, a king. The gravity of it all had followed him through his years like a shadow, growing darker as his boyish days slipped away. But, if he was honest with himself, he didn’t always carry it well. 
The streets of Dragonstone were thick with more than just history; they thrummed with whispers, the kind that lived in the cracks between stone walls and echoed through the corridors of old castles. Jacaerys had heard them all his life – quiet, unsettling tales of figures that walked in the dark, too pale, too still, to be truly alive. 
Ghosts, they said. The dead who still lingered in the places they once loved, haunting the alleys and gardens of the ancient fortress.
They were spoken of in hushed tones, as if giving the rumors voice would summon the spirits themselves. Dragonstone was old, older than most could remember, built in the heart of volcanic rock and guarded by dragons for centuries. Some said the spirits were the restless dead of Old Valyria, others believed they were simply the shades of those who had perished in Dragonstone's violent history, lost souls unable to find peace. The smallfolk loved these stories, passing them on like secret treasures.
The most persistent rumor, however, was that these ghosts were not like others. They were so close to human form that they could be mistaken for the living, dressed in the garb of commoners or even high lords. People claimed to have seen them at twilight, their faces blurred in the fading light, their movements slow and deliberate. They said these figures could walk past you on the street and disappear around a corner, only for you to find that no one had been there at all. Some swore they could hear faint whispers in the dead of night, words that made no sense but chilled the blood all the same.
Baela and Rhaena, his cousins, adored the stories. They would sit together at night, recounting every tale they’d ever heard with wide eyes and eager voices, pressing Jace to join in their excitement. To them, the whispers were a mystery waiting to be solved, a chance for adventure. They dared each other to explore the darker parts of Dragonstone, to look for signs of the ghostly visitors.
Jace had always dismissed the rumors, shaking his head at their enthusiasm. He was pragmatic, after all. Ghosts didn’t exist – not really. The world was full of real dangers, real threats, and he had no time for fantasies spun by smallfolk in taverns or idle kitchen maids. His life was one of duty, of preparation for the crown that would one day be his, and the weight of that responsibility left little room for idle thoughts about the dead.
But the stories had a way of creeping into his mind, especially at night when the castle felt too large, too quiet. Sometimes, walking the shadowed halls, he would feel a prickle at the back of his neck, as if he were being watched by unseen eyes. And when Baela and Rhaena would laugh, teasing him for being too serious, a small part of him would wonder if they were right to believe – if the whispers held any truth at all.
Dragonstone was full of secrets. Jace had grown up with that knowledge, had learned to navigate the unspoken currents that ran beneath the surface of the island. The weight of expectation was one thing – the inheritance of power, of responsibility – but there was also the weight of all that had come before. The ghosts of history, both literal and metaphorical, pressed down on him, whether he acknowledged them or not. 
* * *
The air in Dragonstone carried more than just salt and wind that day. It carried the echoes of Jacaerys’ twentieth nameday, a milestone that should have felt like triumph – like a step closer to the throne. Yet it weighed on him like another layer of the legacy he could never quite shake. The feast had been grand, as expected. Lords and ladies from across the realm gathered, offering gifts and well-wishes, their smiles polite, their voices careful. Rhaenyra had watched him with a mother’s pride, but even she could not hide the small flicker of expectation behind her eyes. He saw it in everyone, really. 
But as the night wore on and the torches burned low, Jace had slipped away from the celebration, craving a quiet that the great hall refused to offer. The weight of all those eyes, all those expectations, had grown too heavy, pressing against his chest like the very stone of the fortress.
Out in the gardens, the air was cooler, the breeze carrying the scent of the sea and damp earth. He walked among the towering statues and overgrown paths, the familiar surroundings offering a strange sense of detachment. The moon hung low over the water, casting the gardens in a silvery light, softening the edges of the world around him. Out here, in the stillness, it was easier to breathe, to think.
“Jace,” Baela had laughed just the night before, tossing her long braid over her shoulder, “if you don’t believe in them, why do you always look over your shoulder when we speak of them?” Her tone was teasing, but there was a gleam in her eye, as if she enjoyed toying with the idea that perhaps, just perhaps, their older cousin wasn’t as grounded as he seemed.
Jace had shrugged it off with a smile, though he couldn’t deny the strange feeling that sometimes washed over him, especially when he wandered the darker corners of the island alone.
Jace found himself wandering deeper into the heart of the gardens, where the shadows were thicker, the stone walls nearly hidden by ivy and ancient trees. It was the kind of place Baela and Rhaena would have loved – haunted, they’d say, their voices full of thrill. A place where the dead could walk alongside the living, where the ghosts of Dragonstone might choose to show themselves. 
He shook his head, the thought slipping into his mind unbidden. No, he reminded himself. No ghosts, only shadows. Yet the stillness of the night made the stories feel too close, as if they lingered just beyond the edge of his perception. 
Then, he saw you.
At first, it was nothing more than a shift in the air, a faint ripple in the moonlight that drew his eyes to a stone bench half-hidden beneath a gnarled tree. There, sitting as still as the statues that surrounded you, was a girl. 
Jace stopped, his breath catching for a moment. You weren’t moving, and yet, there was something about you that made it impossible for him to look away. The pale light of the moon seemed to cling to your skin, casting you in an almost ethereal glow. Your gown – simple but elegant – flowed around you as if it were part of the night itself, blending into the shadows, making it hard to tell where you ended and the darkness began.
His heart skipped once, twice, as he took a tentative step closer. Something in the way you sat, so still, so serene, made him hesitate. He opened his mouth to speak, to say anything that might break the strange silence, but no words came. 
You turned your head, slowly, as if you had been waiting for him all along. Your eyes met his, and in that moment, the world around him seemed to fade. There was a softness to your gaze, a quiet kindness that pulled at something deep inside him, something he hadn’t realized had been so desperately seeking to be found. 
Jace swallowed hard, forcing himself to take another step forward. His voice, when it finally came, felt too loud, too real in the stillness of the night. “Who are you?”
You smiled – a small, almost wistful smile – and though you didn’t answer right away, there was a gentleness in the way your eyes lingered on his, as if you were measuring him, deciding whether to speak at all. The silence stretched between you, long enough for Jace to feel a faint prickle of unease at the back of his neck. He’d walked these gardens a hundred times before, yet now they felt unfamiliar, as if he had stumbled into a place where time moved differently, where the rules of the world no longer applied.
“I... didn’t mean to disturb you,” he added quickly, feeling foolish. 
You tilted your head slightly, the gesture almost curious, and for a brief moment, Jace wondered if you were real at all. The moonlight flickered through the leaves above, casting fleeting shadows across your face, softening your features even more. You looked too perfect, too poised, to be someone he had simply missed in all his years on Dragonstone.
“You didn’t,” you finally said, your voice soft and light, like the rustle of leaves on the wind. There was something strange about it, something that sent a chill down his spine and yet warmed him all at once. 
Jace felt a flutter in his chest, the kind that came not from fear, but from something far more uncertain. Your voice, though gentle, carried an unfamiliar weight – like an echo from a place he couldn’t quite reach. He couldn’t remember ever hearing it before, but it resonated in the air between you, settling in his bones.
For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. The prince who had been trained his entire life to command rooms, to hold the attention of lords and knights, now found himself at a loss for words before a girl sitting alone in the moonlit garden. There was something in the stillness around you that quieted the noise in his mind, that stilled the thoughts of duty and expectation that always seemed to swirl just beneath the surface.
“I’ve never seen you here before,” he managed, the words feeling clumsy on his tongue.
You smiled again, that same soft, almost secret smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. It was as though you held something precious within you – something you weren’t yet ready to share.
“I’ve been here a long time,” you said, your gaze flickering briefly to the garden around you before settling back on him. “Perhaps you simply haven’t been looking.”
The response unsettled him. He’d walked these grounds all his life – knew every stone path, every gnarled tree. He couldn’t imagine missing someone like you. And yet, as you sat there, so at ease in the shadows, he wondered if that was exactly what had happened. Perhaps he had been so consumed with his duties, with the weight of what was expected of him, that he had overlooked the quiet mysteries of the place he called home.
He wanted to ask more, to understand who you were and why he had never seen you before, but something in your expression made him hesitate. There was an air of fragility about you, as if a single wrong word might break the delicate balance of this strange, unexpected encounter.
Instead, he said, “It’s a peaceful place, isn’t it? The gardens, I mean.”
Your gaze drifted toward the horizon, where the moon hung low over the sea, casting long shadows across the garden. “Yes,” you murmured. “It’s peaceful... but also lonely.”
There was a note of sadness in your voice, a quiet sorrow that stirred something inside him. Jace found himself stepping closer, the pull toward you growing stronger with each passing moment. He wanted to understand you, to know why you carried that sadness so gently, so beautifully. 
He took a breath. “Lonely? Why–”
But before he could finish, a gust of wind swept through the garden, stirring the leaves and carrying with it the distant sound of laughter from the feast inside. It reminded him, abruptly, of where he was supposed to be – the prince, the heir, the guest of honor at his own celebration. But standing here, in this forgotten corner of the world, with you sitting so quietly before him, all of that felt distant and unimportant.
“You should go,” you said softly, your eyes lingering on his. There was no urgency in your voice, only a gentle suggestion, as though you knew exactly what was waiting for him beyond the garden walls. 
Jace blinked, momentarily stunned by the abruptness of your words. He opened his mouth to protest, to tell you he wasn’t in any hurry to return, but something about the way you were watching him made him pause. There was a knowing in your gaze, a deep understanding of the weight that sat on his shoulders, even though you couldn’t possibly know the burden he carried.
Before he could speak again, you stood, the movement so graceful it seemed as if you were gliding. For the first time, Jace noticed how your feet barely disturbed the earth beneath you, how the hem of your gown seemed to float above the ground. 
His heart skipped another beat, a small thrill of something unnameable curling in his chest. You were unlike anyone he had ever met. Ethereal, otherworldly. His thoughts wandered back to the whispers, the tales of ghosts that walked the halls of Dragonstone – so real, so human, they could be mistaken for the living.
No, he shook the thought from his mind. Ghosts didn’t exist. At least, not the way the smallfolk told their stories. You were just a girl, a mysterious girl, yes, but nothing more.
“Will I see you again?” Jace said, his voice soft but resolute, an unspoken promise woven into the words.
You didn’t answer, only offering him one last fleeting smile before you turned and disappeared into the shadows of the garden, your form fading like mist into the night.
Jace stood there for a long moment after you were gone, the silence around him thick and heavy, the scent of salt and damp earth still clinging to the air. His heart was still racing, his thoughts tangled in a way they hadn’t been in years.
And as he made his way back toward the grand hall, back to the feast and the people waiting for him, a single question echoed in his mind as he crossed the threshold of the garden's edge and back into the light of the torches.
Who were you?
* * *
He stepped back into the grand hall, the lively chatter and the clinking of goblets nearly drowning out his thoughts. The laughter seemed to echo louder, sharper, in contrast to the quiet he had just left behind in the gardens. But despite the merriment that surrounded him, the image of you lingered in his mind like a haunting melody – soft, mysterious, and infinitely compelling.
As he navigated through the throng of guests, their faces blurred by the weight of his own thoughts, he searched for Rhaena. She was a breath of fresh air, a flicker of understanding amidst the oppressive expectations that seemed to hang in the air. He remembered the way she often rolled her eyes at the festivities, how she would slip away from the noise with a knowing smile, as if sharing a secret with the shadows.
Finally, he spotted her, tucked into a corner of the hall where the light was dimmer, away from the enthusiastic throng. Rhaena leaned against a stone wall, a glass of wine cradled in her hand, her gaze unfocused as if she were lost in her own thoughts. She looked up just as he approached, her expression shifting from boredom to curiosity.
“Jace,” she greeted him, her tone light but with an undertone of concern. “You’ve escaped, then? I was beginning to think you’d actually enjoy your own nameday celebration.”
“Not quite,” he replied, a small smile flickering across his lips. “I needed air.”
“Or a moment of peace,” she said knowingly, and he felt the warmth of her understanding.
Jace sank onto the stone bench beside Rhaena, the coolness of the surface grounding him in the midst of the swirling revelry. The distant laughter and the warm glow of the torches felt like a world away from the quiet intimacy he had just shared with you in the garden. Rhaena held out her goblet, a small smile teasing the corners of her lips, her hair catching the flickering light.
“Here,” she said, her voice playful. “A toast to your twentieth year. Or to your newfound appreciation for solitude, whichever suits you best.”
He accepted the goblet, its cool metal pressing against his palm, and took a sip of the rich wine. The taste washed over him, filling his senses but still unable to distract from the lingering impression of you. Rhaena raised an eyebrow, leaning in as if she could sense the weight in his heart.
“What’s on your mind, cousin?” she prompted gently, her expression shifting from playful to concerned.
He hesitated, searching for the right words, the right way to convey the inexplicable feeling that had settled deep within him. Jacaerys glanced around, ensuring that no one was within earshot before leaning closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. “I saw a girl in the gardens.”
Rhaena’s eyebrows raised in surprise, her interest piqued. “A girl? Here? At this hour?”
Jace nodded slowly, his eyes distant as he recalled the encounter. "She was... different." He paused, struggling to find the right words to describe you. Then, he shrugged.
Rhaena leaned in closer, her voice dropping to match his hushed tone. "Different how? Was she a guest? A servant?"
"I don't know," Jace admitted, his brow furrowing. "She didn't seem to belong to any particular station." He trailed off, remembering the way the moonlight had seemed to cling to your form, the otherworldly grace of your movements.
"Go on," Rhaena urged, her eyes glinting with curiosity.
Jace took a deep breath, knowing how his next words might sound. "She was so still, Rhaena. So quiet. And when she moved, it was like... like she was barely touching the ground." He shook his head, frustrated by his inability to capture the essence of what he had experienced. "I know it sounds mad, but for a moment, I almost thought..."
"You thought what?" Rhaena pressed, leaning even closer.
"I almost thought she might be one of them," Jace whispered, his voice barely audible over the distant sounds of the feast. "One of the ghosts from the stories."
Rhaena's eyes widened, a mixture of excitement and disbelief flashing across her face. "Jace," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. But then, seeing the seriousness in her cousin's expression, she paused. A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, and she shook her head gently.
"Oh, Jace," she said, her tone softening. "You know those stories were just for fun, right? A bit of excitement to pass the time." Rhaena reached out, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "I've never actually seen a ghost, and to be honest, I don't think I ever will."
Jace furrowed his brow, torn between the rational explanation Rhaena offered and the undeniable otherworldliness of his encounter with you. He opened his mouth to protest, but Rhaena continued before he could speak.
"Have you considered that she might have just been another guest?" Rhaena suggested, her eyes scanning the crowded hall. "Perhaps she needed some air, just like you did. It's been quite a night, after all."
Jace followed her gaze, searching the sea of faces for any sign of you. But even as he looked, he knew he wouldn't find you there. The memory of your ethereal presence in the moonlit garden seemed at odds with the warmth and noise of the feast.
"I don't think so," he said slowly, turning back to Rhaena. "If she had been here, at the celebration... I would have noticed her." Even as he said it, a flicker of doubt crossed his mind. Would he have? He'd been so preoccupied with his duties, with being the perfect prince and heir, that he'd barely registered most of the guests.
"Did you get her name?" Rhaena asked gently.
"No," Jace replied, frustration coloring his tone. "She disappeared before I could ask. She told me I should go, that I was needed here, and then... she was gone."
Rhaena reached out, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "Will you look for her again?"
Jace hesitated, his heart a battlefield of emotions. He shrugged, the gesture feeling insufficient to express the turmoil he felt. How could he explain the magnetic pull you had on him, the way your laughter still echoed in his mind?
Rhaena's gaze narrowed, studying him closely. He sighed, leaning against the nearby column, its cool surface a stark contrast to the warmth pooling in his chest. "Not sure.”
Seeing the flicker of conflict in his eyes, Rhaena’s demeanor shifted, her excitement bubbling just beneath the surface. “Perhaps she is a ghost, or the young prince has gone to folly”
Jace couldn’t help but chuckle, though a part of him wondered if that might be true.
They settled into a comfortable silence, each lost in their thoughts as the feast continued around them. The sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and spirited conversation filled the air, yet Jace felt detached, like a spectator in a world that felt all too distant.
He picked up the goblet, the rich red wine swirling within, and took a sip. The warmth spread through him, a comforting embrace in the midst of the chaos. Rhaena did the same, her expression contemplative as she gazed at him over the rim of her glass.
They drank in quietude, the weight of unsaid words hanging between them like a delicate thread. Jace watched the revelry from the periphery, his heart still racing with the memory of your laughter, the way your eyes sparkled under the moonlight, weaving a spell he couldn't shake off.
* * *
The days following the feast were a blur for Jace. Duties piled upon duties, conversations blending into each other, faces coming and going in a ceaseless stream. Yet, through it all, one memory remained sharp in his mind – your figure bathed in moonlight, as fleeting as a dream, but more real to him than anything else.
He couldn’t explain it. He had only spoken to you for a brief moment, had only heard your voice for mere heartbeats, but your presence lingered. You had slipped away before he could ask for your name, disappearing into the night like mist. Every time he thought of you, the memory felt like a whisper at the back of his mind, a soft tug urging him to seek you out.
His nights were restless, his dreams filled with fragments of that brief encounter. Each night, he told himself it was folly, that he was chasing a phantom. But every morning, the pull in his chest remained, stronger than before.
And so, he began taking walks.
At first, it was subtle. After finishing his duties for the day, he would wander down to the gardens where he had met you. He told himself it was simply to clear his head, to enjoy the serenity of the greenery and the quiet rustling of the leaves. But deep down, he knew he was hoping – hoping that he might see you again.
The gardens were large, a labyrinth of neatly kept hedges and winding paths. Lanterns lit the walkways at night, casting long shadows that danced with the flickering flames. Each evening, as he made his way through the familiar paths, Jace found himself listening for your voice, searching for any hint of your presence.
For the first few nights, the garden was empty. The quiet was soothing, but it wasn’t the quiet he longed for. He wanted the soft cadence of your voice to fill the space, your footsteps to match his.
Jace scolded himself for his foolishness. What was he doing, wandering aimlessly through the garden like a lovesick boy? He should be attending to his responsibilities, ensuring the safety and future of his house. He was the heir to the throne, for the gods’ sake, and here he was, chasing after someone he barely knew even existed.
But it was as if he had no control over it. His heart was leading him, guiding him back to the garden each night. It was the only place where the restless yearning inside him seemed to quiet, even if only slightly.
After a week, Rhaena began to notice his nightly walks. She teased him lightly at first, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Still searching for your ghost, cousin?” she’d ask, her tone playful yet knowing.
He would brush her off with a smile, but inside, her words stung. Maybe it was foolish. Perhaps you were just a figment of his imagination, conjured up in a moment of vulnerability. But then he’d remember the way the moonlight had caught in your hair, the sound of your soft voice, and the pull in his chest would return, stronger.
A fortnight passed. Each night, Jace made his way to the garden, wandering the paths as if on some invisible tether. He grew more frustrated with each passing evening, the weight of his uncertainty pressing heavier on him. The moon hung in the sky, pale and distant, casting its silver glow over the trees and flowers, but you were nowhere to be found.
One evening, as he sat on a stone bench tucked away in a secluded corner of the garden, Jace let out a long sigh. The night was cool, the soft breeze carrying the scent of blooming jasmine through the air. The garden was quiet save for the faint rustling of leaves. He should give up, he thought. You weren’t coming back. It had been foolish to hope otherwise.
He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself. What was it about you that had him so captivated? He had met countless people, but none had left such an impression. 
Jace was about to rise, to leave the garden behind for the night, when he heard it – a csoft breeze, barely audible, approaching from behind him. His heart leapt into his throat, and he froze, hardly daring to breathe.
Then, he heard a familiar voice.
“I didn’t think I’d see you here again.”
He turned, his heart racing, and there you were. Standing a few paces away, your expression both surprised and amused. The moonlight bathed you in its glow, just as it had that night, casting an ethereal sheen over your figure. The sight of you, so vivid and real, made something inside him stir, as if a piece of him had finally fallen into place.
“I could say the same for you,” Jace managed to reply, his voice softer than he’d intended. He rose slowly, afraid that any sudden movement might break the spell and send you disappearing into the night again.
You smiled, that same quiet, knowing smile, and took a step closer. “What brings the prince to these gardens so late at night?”
His heart thundered in his chest, but he forced himself to stay calm. “Just needed some air. It seems I’ve found a good place for it.”
You tilted your head, studying him with those eyes that seemed to see right through him. “And here I thought you might be searching for something.”
Jace swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. He couldn’t lie to you, not when the truth seemed to hang in the air between you, unspoken but palpable. “Maybe I am,” he admitted, his voice low.
The silence that followed felt heavy, charged with a tension he couldn’t quite define. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet of the garden wrapping around you both like a cloak. Then, you took another step forward, your presence filling the space between you, and Jace felt that magnetic pull again, the one that had kept him returning night after night.
“I think,” you said softly, “you’ve already found it.”
Your words sent a shiver down his spine, and for the first time in weeks, Jace felt a sense of clarity. You were here, standing before him, no longer a phantom or a distant memory. You were real, and in that moment, he knew – he would do whatever it took to keep you from slipping away again.
Jace's heart raced as he stood before you, the moonlight casting a soft glow around your form. He struggled to find the right words, his usual confidence replaced by an unfamiliar nervousness.
"I... I've been hoping to see you again," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I couldn't stop thinking about our last encounter."
You smiled, the expression both enigmatic and gentle. "Time moves differently here," you said, your voice carrying on the night breeze. "What feels like weeks to you may be but a moment to me."
Jace furrowed his brow, trying to make sense of your words. "Who are you?" he asked, taking a tentative step closer. "Where do you come from?"
Your laughter was like the tinkling of distant bells. "Those are heavy questions for such a beautiful night, don't you think?" You gestured to the garden around you. "Shall we walk instead?"
Without waiting for an answer, you began to move along the moonlit path. Jace hurried to fall into step beside you, acutely aware of how your feet seemed to barely touch the ground.
"I've never seen you at court," Jace said, his eyes drinking in your profile. "Are you visiting Dragonstone?"
You turned to him, your eyes twinkling with an otherworldly light. "I've been here longer than you might think. Dragonstone holds many secrets, young prince."
Jace's breath caught in his throat. There was something in the way you said 'young prince' that made him feel both seen and exposed. "Do you... know who I am?"
"Jacaerys Velaryon," you said, your voice carrying a hint of amusement. "Heir to the Iron Throne, son of Rhaenyra Targaryen. But that's not all you are, is it?"
Jace stumbled slightly, caught off guard by your words. "What do you mean?"
You stopped walking, turning to face him fully. The moonlight seemed to bend around you, creating an almost glowing aura. "You're more than your titles, Jacerys. More than the expectations placed upon you. I see the weight you carry, the doubts that plague you."
Jace felt his chest tighten, a mix of fear and exhilaration coursing through him. How could you know these things? How could you see so deeply into him?
"I don't understand," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "Who are you, really?"
You reached out, your hand hovering just above his cheek without touching. Jace felt a coolness emanate from your palm, like a ghostly caress. 
"Understanding isn't always necessary," you said softly. "Sometimes, it's enough to simply feel."
Jace closed his eyes, overwhelmed by your presence and your words. When he opened them again, you had taken a step back, your form seeming to shimmer slightly in the moonlight.
Your smile was bittersweet. "The garden holds many secrets, Jace. If you listen closely, you might hear them whisper."
As you began to fade into the shadows of the garden, Jace reached out, his hand passing through the space where you had been. "Wait!" he called out. "At least tell me your name!"
Your voice came as if from a great distance, carried on the night wind. "Names have power, young prince. Perhaps next time, you'll earn the right to know mine."
And then you were gone, leaving Jace alone in the moonlit garden, his heart pounding and his mind reeling. He stood there for a long moment, trying to process what had just happened. Despite the lingering doubts and questions, one thing was certain – he would return to this garden, night after night, until he saw you again.
Jace stood rooted to the spot long after you had vanished, his mind reeling from the encounter. The garden around him seemed different now, charged with an energy he couldn't quite explain. Every rustle of leaves, every shadow cast by the moonlight, held the possibility of your return.
Finally, he let out a long, shaky breath and sank onto a nearby stone bench. His hands trembled slightly as he ran them through his hair, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
"Names have power," he whispered to himself, repeating your parting words. What did that mean? And how did you know so much about him? The way you had spoken of his doubts, his fears... it was as if you had peered directly into his soul.
A cool breeze rustled through the garden, carrying with it the faint scent of salt from the sea beyond. Jace closed his eyes, breathing deeply, trying to calm his racing heart. But every time he did, he saw your face behind his eyelids, your enigmatic smile, your eyes that seemed to hold secrets beyond his understanding.
He should be frightened, he realized. Or at least concerned. You were an unknown entity, someone – or something – that seemed to know far too much about him and the inner workings of Dragonstone. As the heir to the Iron Throne, he had been taught from a young age to be wary of such mysteries, to see them as potential threats.
But fear was the furthest thing from his mind. Instead, he felt... alive. More alive than he had in years. The weight of expectation, the constant pressure of his duties, seemed to have lifted, if only for a moment. In their place was a burning curiosity, a desire to unravel the mystery that surrounded you.
Jace stood up abruptly, pacing the moonlit path. He needed to approach this logically, to try and make sense of it all. But how could he apply logic to something that defied explanation?
You had spoken of time moving differently, of being here longer than he might think. Were you truly a ghost, as he had first suspected? But you had seemed so real, so tangible. He could still feel the coolness that had emanated from your almost-touch, could still hear the musical quality of your laughter.
And what of your knowledge of him? Not just his titles and lineage, but the deeper truths he kept hidden. The doubts that plagued him in the quiet hours of the night, the fears he dared not voice even to those closest to him.
Jace's mind raced with possibilities, each more fantastical than the last. Were you some kind of seer, gifted with the ability to read hearts and minds? A magical being, drawn to the ancient power that thrummed through Dragonstone? Or perhaps...
He stopped in his tracks, a new thought occurring to him. Could you be connected to the dragons somehow? The great beasts that had made Dragonstone their home for generations were said to be creatures of magic and mystery. Could their presence have drawn you here, or even created you?
The idea both thrilled and unsettled him. If there was a connection between you and the dragons, what did that mean for him, for his family's legacy?
Jace shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He was getting ahead of himself, spinning tales based on nothing but speculation and fantasy. What he needed was more information, more encounters with you to try and piece together the truth.
As he made his way back toward the castle, Jace found himself already planning his return to the garden the next night. And the night after that, and every night until he saw you again. He knew it was risky, knew that his nightly wanderings would eventually draw attention. Rhaena was already suspicious, and it wouldn't be long before others noticed his distraction.
But the risk seemed small compared to the pull he felt toward you, the desperate need to unravel your mystery. For the first time in his life, Jace felt as though he was on the cusp of something truly extraordinary, something that existed beyond the rigid confines of duty and expectation that had defined his existence for so long.
As he reached the castle doors, Jace paused, looking back at the moonlit garden one last time. The breeze picked up, carrying with it the faintest whisper, so soft he might have imagined it.
"Until next time, young prince."
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Yes, there would be a next time. Of that, he was certain. And when it came, he would be ready. Ready to ask the right questions, to push for answers, to finally understand the enigma that you presented.
With renewed determination, Jace entered the castle, his mind already racing with plans for tomorrow night's visit to the garden. Whatever secrets you held, whatever truths lay hidden in the shadows of Dragonstone, he would uncover them.
After all, he was Jacaerys Velaryon, heir to the Iron Throne. And now, he had a mystery to solve.
* * *
The following afternoon found Jace and Rhaena in one of Dragonstone's many secluded alcoves, a favorite spot of theirs since childhood. Sunlight streamed through the narrow windows, casting long shadows across the stone floor. Rhaena sat perched on a window ledge, her legs dangling, while Jace paced restlessly before her.
"So," Rhaena began, a mischievous glint in her eye, "are you going to tell me why you've been wandering the gardens every night like a lost soul?"
Jace paused mid-step, turning to face his cousin. He hesitated for a moment, weighing his words carefully. "I saw her again, Rhaena," he finally said, his voice soft with wonder.
Rhaena's eyebrows shot up. "The mysterious girl from the feast?"
Jace nodded, a dreamy look overtaking his features. "She's... she's… The way she moves, it's like she's floating on air. And her voice..." He closed his eyes, as if trying to recapture the sound. "It's like music, like the softest whisper of wind through leaves."
Rhaena leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. "And what did this ethereal beauty have to say?"
"She spoke of time moving differently, of secrets hidden in Dragonstone." Jace's eyes flew open, burning with intensity. "She knew things about me, Rhaena. Things I've never told anyone."
"Things like what?" Rhaena pressed, her teasing tone giving way to genuine interest.
Jace shook his head. "My doubts, my fears... it was as if she could see right through me, right into my soul."
Rhaena's brow furrowed. "That sounds... unsettling."
"No, no, it wasn't," Jace insisted, resuming his pacing. "It was... freeing. Like for the first time, someone truly saw me. Not the heir, not the prince, just... me."
A soft chuckle escaped Rhaena's lips. "Oh, Jace," she said, her voice warm with affection. "You sound like you're in love."
Jace stopped again, his cheeks flushing. "I... I don't know. Maybe I am." He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration. "Is it possible to fall in love with someone you've barely met?"
"With a ghost, you mean?" Rhaena teased, but her smile was kind.
"She's not..." Jace began, then paused. "Well, maybe she is. I don't know." He moved to the window, gazing out over the castle grounds. "When she reached out to me, I felt this... coolness. Not quite a touch, but almost. And the way she moves, Rhaena... it's so smooth, so graceful. Like she's gliding rather than walking."
Rhaena slid down from her perch, moving to stand beside her cousin. "Jace," she said gently, "are you sure this isn't just your imagination? The stress of your duties, perhaps?"
Jace shook his head vehemently. "No, she's real. I'm sure of it." He turned to face Rhaena, his eyes blazing with conviction. "Maybe she's a ghost, or... or an angel." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I wonder if the gods sent her just for me."
Rhaena's eyebrows shot up. "An angel? Jace, listen to yourself."
"I know how it sounds," he admitted. "But you haven't seen her, Rhaena. The way the moonlight seems to bend around her, the wisdom in her eyes... it's otherworldly."
Rhaena studied him for a long moment, "Jace, I don't doubt you've seen something,” she said slowly, her tone cautious yet kind. "But this… girl, spirit, whatever she is – don’t you think it's a little dangerous? You’re talking about her like she’s more than just a fleeting dream."
Jace's jaw tightened. “I know what I saw. What I felt.”
“I’m not saying you didn’t.” Rhaena folded her arms, her gaze softening. “But ever since we were children, you’ve carried so much on your shoulders. I worry this... mystery might be more of a distraction than a blessing.”
Jace turned back to the window, the garden below bathed in the golden light of late afternoon. His mind was still full of last night’s encounter, the way you seemed to understand him in ways no one else had. His thoughts drifted back to your smile, the coolness of your almost-touch.
Rhaena sighed, stepping beside him. "I don’t know what to tell you, Jace. But just – be careful, alright? Sometimes, things that seem too good to be true... well, you know how those stories go.”
Jace met her gaze, nodding, though his heart wasn’t in it. He appreciated her concern, but how could he explain what he couldn’t even fully comprehend himself? He couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the beginning of something important, something that reached beyond his understanding of the world.
* * *
The next night, as the moon hung high over Dragonstone, Jace returned to the garden. The path before him was illuminated by soft moonlight, the shadows deep and thick between the ancient trees. His heart raced with anticipation, every step fueled by the memory of your voice, the ghostly coolness of your near-touch, and the mystery that clung to you like mist.
He paused at the stone bench where he had waited the night before. The same jasmine fragrance filled the air, a familiar perfume to this place. His eyes scanned the garden, searching for any sign of you.
For a moment, the silence was absolute, broken only by the occasional rustling of leaves in the night breeze. And then, faint but unmistakable, the softest whisper of movement behind him.
“You’re back,” your voice floated toward him, just as it had before. It was light, like a breeze that stirred only for him.
Jace spun around, his breath catching in his throat. There you were, standing just at the edge of the moon’s glow, half-shadowed, half-illuminated. The sight of you, so familiar yet still impossibly elusive, sent a shiver through him.
“I said I would return, didn’t I?” he replied, his voice hushed as if speaking too loudly might break the fragile connection between you.
You stepped closer, your movements as graceful as ever, your eyes glinting like distant stars. “Many say such things, young prince. Few mean them.”
“I meant it,” Jace said, taking a step forward as well.
There was something in your expression – an emotion too complex for him to decipher. You tilted your head slightly, studying him, your gaze intense but soft, as if you were measuring something deeper than his words.
“And what did you hope to find this time?” you asked, the faintest hint of amusement playing at the corners of your lips. 
Jace’s gaze flickered over your face, searching for answers he wasn’t even sure he had. What did he hope to find? He knew it had something to do with you, but the reason felt just out of reach, like a whisper in the wind – intangible, fleeting. His lips parted, but no words came at first. What could he possibly say that wouldn’t sound absurd? 
You. I was hoping to find you.
But he couldn’t tell you that. Not when he barely understood it himself. His hesitation stretched the silence between you, thickening the air with something unspoken, something both alluring and unsettling.
“I–” he faltered, running a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he couldn’t seem to shake when you were near. His pulse quickened again, betraying the calm façade he tried to maintain. “I suppose I was hoping you might still be here.”
A soft, enigmatic smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “I am always here, Jacaerys. But not everyone can see me.”
Your words made his heart stumble, though he wasn’t sure why. He took another step forward, feeling as if he were being pulled deeper into some untouchable place, a world where you existed just outside the bounds of reality. Close enough to touch, but too far to reach.
“I see you,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper.
You raised an eyebrow, that hint of amusement still playing in your eyes. “Do you?”
The question made him pause. Did he really? Or was he only seeing what he wanted to – what he hoped to? The thought unsettled him, a ripple of doubt threading through his mind. But as his gaze lingered on your face, he was certain of one thing: you were no illusion. There was a depth to you, a presence that stirred something deep within him, something ancient and unfamiliar.
“Yes,” he said, more certain this time. “I do.”
You watched him closely, the smile fading, replaced by something more thoughtful, something almost… sorrowful? The weight of your stare made his chest tighten, as if you could see through him, past his words and into the very heart of what he wasn’t saying.
Jace’s hand twitched at his side, instinct guiding him forward as a stray lock of your hair fell across your face. His fingers ached to reach out, to tuck it gently behind your ear, but something stopped him – something more than hesitation. It was like an invisible wall, a cold pressure pulling at his skin as he neared you, a barrier he couldn’t push through. His hand hovered inches from your cheek, and the chill seeped into his bones, sharp and unnatural.
You didn’t move, watching him with that same strange, sorrowful gaze. The touch he so desperately sought seemed impossible, slipping further out of reach even as he closed the distance. His pulse hammered in his ears, louder than the whispering breeze that stirred the garden, louder than his racing thoughts.
For a moment, the world stood still. His breath hitched, and all he could feel was the cold emptiness where your warmth should have been. It wasn’t just distance – it was as though you weren’t entirely there, not in the way he was. His fingertips brushed the air between you, but they might as well have been miles apart.
Before he could process the disappointment tightening in his chest, you lifted your hand with a fluid, almost ghostly grace, and tucked the strand of hair behind your ear yourself. The motion was so simple, yet it was accompanied by a sad, knowing smile, one that deepened the ache in his heart. You looked at him as though you understood something he didn’t.
“You can’t touch me, Jacaerys,” you murmured softly, your voice filled with a sorrow that mirrored the chill still lingering in the air between you. 
The weight of your words crushed him more than he expected. He didn’t want to believe it. He wanted to tell you that he could, that he would find a way – but the cold that still lingered on his fingertips was a painful reminder of the truth. His hand fell slowly to his side, the loss of your touch – a touch he never even had – leaving him hollow.
"Why?" he whispered, barely audible, though his voice betrayed the frustration that churned beneath his confusion. He didn’t understand why you remained just out of reach, why you were always close but untouchable, like something woven from mist and dreams.
You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you looked past him, your gaze distant as if your mind had wandered to another time, another place. “Some things,” you began slowly, your voice almost too quiet to hear, “are not meant to be held. Not in the way you wish.”
The words hung heavy in the cool night air, filled with a meaning he couldn’t fully grasp. Jace’s jaw clenched, his frustration simmering under the surface. He hated this feeling – the helplessness, the confusion. He hated that you seemed so sure, so accepting of something that made no sense to him.
“But, I see you,” he said again, more firmly this time, trying to reclaim some sense of control, some sense of clarity. But even as the words left his lips, he felt the doubt creeping back in, poisoning his certainty. He saw you, yes, but he didn’t understand you. He didn’t know why he couldn’t reach you, couldn’t hold onto you.
Your eyes met his, and there was a flicker of something – regret, perhaps. “I know,” you whispered, your voice heavy with an unspoken weight. “But seeing isn’t always enough.” 
The sadness in your words twisted something deep inside him, and for the first time, he wondered if you were trapped just as much as he was. If this distance, this untouchable space between you, was a prison for you too. But before he could ask, before he could say anything, you took a step back, retreating into the shadows that clung to the edges of the garden.
His heart leapt, panic flashing in his eyes as the distance between you grew once again. “Wait–” he began, reaching out, though he knew it was futile. You were slipping away, like the night itself, and all he could do was watch as the moonlight barely clung to your form. 
“Don’t go!” he called out, desperation lacing his voice. Each word felt like a plea, a thread fraying in the cool night air. He took a step forward, willing the distance to close, willing the invisible barrier to dissolve, but it only widened as you stepped back, shadows enveloping you like a shroud.
You paused, turning slightly, and in that fleeting moment, he caught a glimpse of the sorrow etched on your features, a reflection of his own tumultuous emotions. “I have to,” you replied, your voice soft but firm, resonating with a certainty that left him both bewildered and aching.
“Why?” Jace's heart raced as he fought against the rising tide of frustration and helplessness. “Why can’t you stay? Why can’t we…” The question hung in the air, raw and vulnerable, echoing the unsaid words that lingered in the spaces between you.
You looked away, gaze drawn to the heavens above, where stars shimmered like distant dreams, unattainable yet hauntingly beautiful. “You know I can’t,” you whispered, almost to yourself. “This world… it is not mine. I belong to something else.”
His breath caught in his throat, the weight of your words settling over him like a heavy cloak. “But what does that mean?” he pressed, stepping closer, defiance mingling with desperation. “You’re here now. I see you, I can feel you. You can stay.”
A pained smile flitted across your lips, one that only deepened his unease. “You feel me, yes,” you said gently, the softness of your voice contrasting sharply with the coldness that still enveloped him. “But I am not meant to linger. I am but a whisper in the night, a fleeting moment. You have your life, your duties… your path to follow.”
“I don’t care about my path!” he retorted, the words bursting from him, fierce and unguarded.
You hesitated, and he could see the internal struggle etched across your face. You uttered your name in almost a whisper, like a song that resonated in the quiet night. “I will come to you again. I promise.”
He repeated your name, savoring the way it rolled off his tongue. It felt like a gift, a treasure he could hold onto. “Can’t you stay?”
A sad smile tugged at the corners of your lips, your expression a mix of hope and sorrow. “I will always find my way back to you, Jacaerys,” you said, a gentle certainty in your voice. “But know this: our paths, as intertwined as they may feel, are different. I may linger in your dreams, but my reality is… not your own.”
His heart sank at your words, a heavy ache settling in his chest. The thought of you slipping away again, of returning to the shadows from which you emerged, filled him with a deep sense of loss. “Then don’t go,” he urged, desperation bleeding into his voice.
“I wish it were that simple,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. “But some boundaries cannot be crossed. Not without consequence.”
The chill of your words wrapped around him, but beneath it lay a promise – a flicker of hope that ignited within him. “Then I’ll wait,” he declared, his voice firm and resolute.
You gave him one last, lingering look, your sad smile etched in the moon’s glow. “I will see you soon, Jacaerys. Hold onto that promise, for it is all I can give you.” you whispered, though your voice felt as far away as the stars. 
And with that, you were gone, leaving nothing but the jasmine-scented air and the fading memory of your presence. Jace stood there, his chest rising and falling with the weight of everything left unsaid, his hand still tingling from the cold where you should have been.
* * *
The days passed, each one marked by the silent promise of your return. Each night, as the moon rose over Dragonstone, you appeared in the garden, weaving through the shadows like a wisp of smoke. With every encounter, Jacaerys felt a pull, an undeniable connection that deepened with each passing moment. 
He learned more about you, your laughter that echoed like a melody in the night, the way your eyes sparkled with untold stories and sadness, each visit drawing him deeper into the tapestry of your existence.
Yet, as the nights turned into weeks, Jace’s heart grew heavy with the knowledge of your intangible nature. The realization that he could never truly reach you, never feel the warmth of your skin or the comfort of your presence, began to weigh on him like a leaden cloak. The thrill of your appearances faded, replaced by an ache that nestled in the very core of his being. It gnawed at him during the day, haunting his thoughts and overshadowing his duties as prince. 
Desperate to bridge the chasm that separated you, he turned to the maesters, seeking answers cloaked in scholarly words and dusty tomes. He approached them under the guise of curiosity, his inquiries carefully crafted to mask his true intent. “What do you know of spirits?” he would ask, feigning casual interest, hoping they would unwittingly share the secrets of the otherworld. 
Yet the answers they provided were frustratingly vague. They spoke of ancient tales and long-lost rituals, but none offered the solution he so fervently sought. He was left with nothing but more questions and a gnawing sense of helplessness.
In secret, he sought out witches, drawn to their whispers and charms, clinging to the belief that perhaps they held the key to your return. He ventured into shadowed corners of Dragonstone, where the air crackled with magic and danger. Each encounter with a witch felt like a gamble, a dance with fate, but he was willing to risk it all if it meant bringing you back to him. Each time he faced a new practitioner, he wore a mask of casual interest, his mind racing with possibilities, a pulse of urgency thrumming through him. 
Yet the more he searched, the more consumed he became, his obsession slowly pulling him away from his duties and family. His conversations with his mother and siblings grew strained, their worried glances punctuating the silence that lingered around him. He felt their concern, the weight of their expectations pressing down like a stone, but he could hardly pay them any mind. All he could think of was you – the laughter that lingered in the air, the sadness in your gaze, the warmth of your presence that remained just out of reach.
And still, night after night, you returned to the garden. You would stand before him, half-shadowed, half-illuminated by moonlight, your presence a bittersweet balm to his aching heart. Each reunion was a comfort and a torment, a reminder of everything he longed for and could never possess. You would talk, your voice weaving tales of places beyond his imagination, stories of a life that felt just beyond his grasp. But as the conversation deepened, so did the distance, the invisible barrier that kept you just out of reach.
One night, as you shared a particularly vivid tale about the stars and their secrets, he interrupted, his frustration spilling over. “Why can’t you stay? Why do you keep slipping away?” His voice cracked, the pain evident in every word.
You paused, your gaze softening with understanding. “I have told you, Jacaerys. Some things are not meant to be held,” you replied gently. But this time, there was an edge to your voice, a deeper sadness that echoed in your words.
“Then tell me how to break this,” he urged, his desperation clawing at him. “I would give anything to bring you back.” 
Your eyes flickered, and for a moment, he thought he saw a flicker of hope, a light in the depths of your sorrow. “There are costs, Jacaerys,” you warned, your voice low and serious. “Some boundaries cannot be crossed without consequence.” 
“I don’t care about the cost,” he insisted, his heart racing. “Just tell me what to do.”
But you shook your head, sadness etched in your features. “You cannot rush fate. I am not a prize to be won or a ghost to be summoned.” 
The words struck him like a physical blow. He felt the ache in his chest grow, squeezing the breath from his lungs. The weight of your absence settled in the silence between you, and he struggled to find the words that would convince you to stay.
Jacaerys clenched his fists, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. The moonlight cast long shadows across the garden, the cool night air thick with the unsaid words hanging between you. He could feel it, the ache building in his chest, the unbearable weight of seeing you standing there, so close, yet unreachable. Your eyes held his, a flicker of sadness mirroring his own, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.
“Do you have any idea what this is like for me?” His voice trembled, anger and desperation entwined in each word. “To look at you and not be able to touch you? To speak with you every night and wonder if it’s the last time? You vanish with the morning, and I’m left alone, not knowing if you’ll return. It’s a torment.” 
You flinched at the sharpness of his words, but your gaze never left his. The silence between you grew heavy, thick with all the unspoken longing and heartbreak. His breath came faster, his frustration spilling out in waves. “I can’t see you, except like this,” he gestured toward you, his voice cracking, “only when the night comes. It’s not enough. You’re not here. Not really.”
You took a step closer, though still, there was that distance, an invisible chasm separating you. Your eyes, filled with a depth of sorrow that only mirrored his own, softened. “Do you think it’s any different for me?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. “Do you think I don’t feel the same?”
He blinked, taken aback by the rawness of your words.
“I look at you,” you continued, your voice growing steadier, though your expression betrayed the weight of your own pain. “And I feel the same longing, the same ache. I listen to you speak, and I wonder if the night will be kind enough to let me see you again. It is the same for me, Jacaerys.” Your voice wavered, the sadness you carried settling into the space between you.
His anger faltered, giving way to the hollowness that had taken root within him. He wanted to reach out, to pull you into his arms, to feel the warmth of your body and chase away the cold emptiness that had haunted him for weeks. But you were a breath away, and that might as well have been a world apart.
“I don’t want it to be this way,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, laced with the same vulnerability that twisted deep in his gut. 
The words hung in the air, fragile and trembling between you. Jacaerys felt his heart pounding, as if it was fighting against the truth that lay before him. You stood there, not quite a ghost, not quite real, and he couldn’t bear the space between you any longer. He could see the sadness in your eyes, the unspoken grief of knowing your worlds were separated by a veil neither of you could pierce. His fingers twitched at his sides, the need to reach out to you overwhelming, but the fear of his hand passing through nothing but cold air held him back.
“I don’t want it to be this way either,” you said softly, the edges of your voice thick with emotion. “But I don’t have control over it. This… this place I come from, it’s not my choice.” 
Jace’s brows knit together as he listened, his mind swirling with a thousand questions. There had to be a way, something he hadn’t thought of yet. The witches, the maesters, even the old stories of dragons and magic – none of them had given him a path to you. But surely, something was out there. He couldn’t accept that this was all fate had to offer him: a lifetime of nights filled with conversations that would fade with the dawn, and a heart that would never stop breaking when he woke up alone.
“Is there no way?” he asked, his voice a plea, raw and jagged. “No spell, no ritual, nothing that could change this?” His eyes searched yours, desperate for even a glimmer of hope.
You shook your head, and he saw the pain in your expression, as if his suffering mirrored your own. “Jacaerys, you don’t understand what you’re asking. The world of the living and the dead… they’re not meant to cross. Not without great cost. If we try to break that balance, something will break with it.”
His jaw tightened. “Then let it break,” he spat. “I can’t keep living like this, with you slipping through my fingers every time the sun rises. I need you here, with me.” His voice cracked, and the vulnerability in it made your heart ache.
“I want that too,” you whispered, stepping closer, your ethereal form catching the moonlight in a way that made you seem almost solid. Almost real. “But it’s not about what we want, Jacaerys. It’s about what is.”
He shook his head, stepping forward to meet you. His hand hovered in the air between you, trembling, unsure whether to reach out or hold back. His voice was softer now, a whisper as his eyes searched your face. “What if I’m willing to pay the cost? What if it doesn’t matter to me, so long as I have you?”
Your breath caught, and for a long moment, the two of you stood in the garden, bathed in silver light, the night eerily still around you. His words hung in the air, and you felt the weight of his desperation settling into your chest like a stone. Jace had always been fierce, determined – qualities that made him a leader, a dragonrider. But this… this was a path that even he couldn’t understand.
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “The cost isn’t just yours to pay. It affects everything around you – your family, your kingdom, your dragons. Some boundaries are there to protect you, not to hurt you.”
Jacaerys’s eyes flickered with defiance, but beneath it was a deep sadness. He was a prince of the realm, and yet here, in this moment, he felt powerless. The idea that you were beyond his reach, no matter how hard he tried to grasp you, was unbearable. And still, he knew you were right. There was something dangerous about tampering with fate, something even he couldn’t predict. But how could he simply let you go?
“I just…” His voice faltered, and he lowered his gaze, unable to meet your eyes. “I just don’t want to lose you.”
A soft, broken smile played across your lips, and you reached out, though you didn’t touch him. “You haven’t lost me. I’m still here. Every night, I’ll be here, as long as I can. But you have to live your life, Jacaerys. You have a future – a future that doesn’t end with me.”
His heart clenched painfully at your words. The future without you felt like a hollow promise, a cold, empty thing. He didn’t want that life, didn’t want to face the possibility of moving on from you. The thought of it felt like a betrayal, as though by accepting the life waiting for him, he’d be abandoning you.
“I can’t,” he whispered, his voice shaking with the weight of everything left unsaid. “I can’t just move on like it doesn’t matter. Like you don’t matter.”
“This isn’t about forgetting me. It’s about living, Jace. You still have so much ahead of you.”
He swallowed hard, his throat tightening. The fire of his anger had dulled into a quiet despair, leaving him feeling raw and exposed. The reality of the situation was settling in, and with it came the crushing weight of inevitability. He couldn’t change this. He couldn’t fix it. All he could do was hold on to the nights you shared and the fleeting moments that came with them.
“I don’t know how to do that,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. 
Your heart ached for him, and though you couldn’t touch him, you leaned in as if your presence alone could offer some comfort. “You will,” you murmured. “In time. But for now… we have the night.”
Jacaerys nodded, but the hollow feeling inside him didn’t ease. He didn’t know how he could ever accept a world where you weren’t truly a part of it. But for now, he would cling to these nights, even if it was all he had. For now, he would hold on to the promise of your return, no matter how fleeting.
You stood there, a ghostly presence wrapped in moonlight, and Jacaerys, with all the fervor and fire that he carried in his blood, could not stop his thoughts from spiraling into what could have been – what should have been.
“If you were alive,” he began, his voice cracking in the stillness of the garden. He could feel the words clawing at his throat, desperate to escape, even though he knew they were futile. You tilted your head, curiosity flickering across your ethereal face, but there was sadness in your eyes as if you already knew where his words were heading.
“If you were alive,” he repeated, voice softening, as if saying it would somehow will it into existence. “I would make you mine. In front of all the realm, I’d declare it. Betroth you to me, like the old ways, in the halls of Dragonstone. The banners would fly, and no one would dare stand in our way.”
A wistful smile tugged at your lips, but the sadness never left your gaze. You watched him with the kind of tenderness that only came from knowing a truth the other could not accept. His words hung in the air, thick with longing, the very fabric of what could never be.
“We would spend our days together,” he continued, his eyes glazing over as he began to weave a tapestry of a life that, deep down, he knew was just a dream. “I would show you everything – the islands, the seas, the hidden coves of Dragonstone. You would meet my brothers. I can see it now… Lucerys would love you; you’d laugh together at the table, and Joffrey… well, he’d try to impress you with some half-baked stories. They’d look up to you.”
He swallowed, his throat tight, his voice growing rough with the weight of his words. “And I’d take you to the town.” His face lit up, momentarily lost in the fantasy. “I’d show you every corner of the market, every stone in the streets. You’ve probably already seen it all… in your past life.” He faltered, reality creeping back in, but he pushed through, holding tight to the dream. “But I would make it new for you, show you the best places, the hidden ones only I know. We’d laugh, walk together until the sun set behind us.”
His hand lifted as if to reach for yours, but it hovered, trembling in the space between you. “I would touch you,” he whispered, barely able to keep the ache from his voice. “I would hold your hand, run my fingers through your hair, feel the warmth of your skin under mine. You wouldn’t be cold, like the air between us now.”
You blinked, a single tear tracing a path down your cheek, catching the moonlight as it fell. But you said nothing, letting him continue, letting him live out the dream in the only way he could – through words.
“And the kisses…” Jace’s voice grew even quieter, more fragile. “I would kiss you every morning, every night. I’d kiss you under the stars, when the world went quiet, and it was just us. I would steal your breath away, like you steal mine now.”
His chest heaved, and he took a shaky breath. “If you were like me, like us, I would never let you go. I would fight every god, every ghost, every shadow for the chance to keep you. We would have a life together. A real one.”
The silence that followed his words was deafening. He stood there, the weight of all his unsaid desires crashing over him, the impossibility of it all hitting like a blade through the heart.
And then you stepped closer, so close that, for a heartbeat, he swore he could feel your warmth, even though he knew you were nothing but air, a wisp of what you once were. Your gaze softened, and your lips parted, but no words came at first. Instead, you watched him with that endless sadness, the one that said you wanted all of this too but knew it could never be.
“I know,” you whispered finally, your voice trembling with the weight of your own grief. “I know, Jacaerys. And if I could… if I could be like you, I would want those things too.”
His heart twisted painfully in his chest, the air thick with the shared ache of two souls that could never truly meet.
“I would give anything,” he whispered, his voice broken, “anything to make it real.” 
But you only shook your head, stepping back ever so slightly, the distance between you growing once more. “Some things are not ours to change,” you said softly, your gaze filled with love and sorrow in equal measure. “But I will hold on to this dream with you, for as long as the night allows.”
Jacaerys clenched his fists, feeling the sting of tears threatening to spill over. The reality of your words felt like a noose tightening around his heart. He couldn’t bear it, couldn’t bear the thought of a world where you were only a memory, a fleeting shadow in the night. But as you began to fade into the silver light, he knew, deep down, that this was all he had – the nights, the dreams, the fragile hope of what could have been. 
And so, as you vanished into the air once more, he whispered into the darkness, “I will never stop trying.”
But the night, as always, gave no answer.
* * *
The air in Dragonstone had always felt heavy with the weight of its history, but tonight, it pressed down on Jace with a different kind of burden. He sat in the dim glow of flickering candles, surrounded by old, forgotten texts scattered across the stone table. The parchment crinkled under his fingers as he turned another brittle page, his eyes scanning the faded script for something – anything – that might give him a chance to bring you back. His heart ached in the silence, the hollow emptiness of your absence gnawing at him, consuming his every thought.
He had been here for hours, locked away from the world, desperate for answers. His brothers had noticed his absence at dinner, but he hadn’t cared. Nothing mattered anymore except the promise of seeing you again, of having you by his side in a way that didn’t leave him clutching at shadows when the dawn came.
His fingers paused on a passage written in a language so ancient it looked more like a series of symbols than letters. His pulse quickened as he squinted at the script, the words slowly taking shape in his mind. A ritual. A spell. His breath hitched as he read further. It was dangerous, forbidden, the kind of magic spoken of in whispers, but it was there – a way to bridge the divide between the living and the dead. His heart pounded in his chest, a sudden surge of hope lifting the weight that had been dragging him down for weeks. He could barely believe it, yet the words were there, right in front of him. 
Jace shoved the other scrolls aside, pulling this one closer, devouring the details. His fingers trembled as he traced the lines of the incantation, each phrase searing into his mind. Could it work? Could this be the answer? It had to be. After everything he’d lost, after every night spent staring at the place where you used to be, this had to be the way.
He didn’t waste time. Grabbing the parchment, he hurried through the empty halls of Dragonstone, the walls echoing with the faintest whispers of his footsteps. His heart raced, but this time it wasn’t just from grief – it was from hope. A flicker of light in the darkness that had swallowed him whole since you were gone.
When he found you, standing in the moonlit garden as you always did, his breath caught in his throat. You looked just as you always had, your silhouette soft and haunting beneath the silver light. The sight of you, as beautiful and distant as ever, twisted something deep inside him. But this time, he carried more than his usual sorrow. He had a plan.
“Jace?” your voice was gentle, a balm to the storm raging inside him. You tilted your head, a soft frown pulling at your lips as he approached. “What is it?”
“I’ve found a way.” His words came out rushed, breathless with excitement. He could barely contain the trembling in his hands, his body thrumming with energy as if the very air around him had shifted. “A spell, a ritual. It can bring you back.”
Your eyes widened, your lips parting in shock. “What?”
Jace stepped closer, thrusting the parchment toward you as if that alone could make you believe it. “It’s here, in this ancient text. I’ve been searching for weeks – no, months – and I finally found it. A ritual that can let us be together again, not just like this.” His hand waved between the two of you, the unbridgeable gap of life and death hanging in the air. “But truly. You, here, alive.”
You stared at him, your expression softening into something achingly familiar – sorrow, deep and heavy, but also love. Always love. “Jace…” you breathed, shaking your head gently as if you already knew where this was going. “No.”
His heart lurched at your response, but he pressed on, his voice almost desperate now. “I’m serious. I can do it. I’ve learned enough, I’ve studied the texts. It’s dangerous, yes, but nothing worth having comes without risk, right? Please, just – just trust me.”
But you were already stepping back, your hands clasped in front of you as sadness clouded your gaze. “You don’t know the cost of this. You don’t know what you’re asking.”
Frustration flared in his chest, a sharp burn that contrasted with the dull ache that had settled there for so long. “I’m asking for you,” he insisted, his voice rising slightly, more insistent. “I’m asking to bring you back. I don’t care about the cost, I’ll pay whatever it is–”
“No!” Your voice was firm this time, your eyes glistening with the weight of your decision. “You don’t understand, Jace. This kind of magic…it’s not meant for the living. It’s not meant to be tampered with. The consequences–” You swallowed hard, glancing down at the parchment in his hands. “They’re far worse than anything you can imagine.”
He shook his head, refusing to accept it. “I don’t care about the consequences. I care about you.”
Your gaze softened again, and you reached out as if to touch him, but your hand hesitated, hanging in the air between you. “And I care about you too much to let you do this. Don’t you see? I would never ask you to pay that price.”
His heart clenched, his hope starting to slip through his fingers like sand. “But there has to be a way…” His voice was hoarse, strained with the weight of his desperation.
Tears welled in your eyes as you shook your head. “There isn’t. Jace, please. I know you’re hurting, I know how much this hurts. But you have to let this go.”
Those words were like a dagger to his chest, sharp and cold, cutting deep. He stood there, frozen, the parchment still clutched in his trembling hands as the hope he’d carried so fiercely shattered before him. The flicker of light in the darkness was extinguished, leaving only the cold, endless void that had been with him since you’d gone.
“I don’t know how to let go,” he whispered, his voice broken.
Your eyes softened with the same unbearable sadness that had haunted him for so long. “I’ll always be with you, Jace. But not like this.”
He lowered his head, the parchment slipping from his fingers and falling to the ground, forgotten. His chest ached, the weight of his grief pressing down on him again, heavier than before. 
“I’m still here, in a way. But you can’t hold onto something that was never meant to last.”
He closed his eyes, tears slipping down his cheeks as he struggled to breathe past the tightness in his chest. You were right. He knew it deep down, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept. The love he felt for you was too strong, too overwhelming to just let go.
But he had no choice.
When he opened his eyes again, you were standing there, watching him with such tenderness it almost undid him. He wanted to reach out, to hold you, to pull you close and never let go, but he knew that wasn’t possible. Not in this world.
You lingered longer than usual in the quiet expanse of the garden, the moonlight spilling like liquid silver over the vibrant blooms and whispering leaves. The air was cool, a gentle breeze rustling the petals, mingling with the faint scent of night-blooming jasmine. 
Beside you, Jace sat with his head resting against the cool stone of the low wall, his breaths slow and even, a stark contrast to the storm that churned within you.
You glanced at him, your heart tightening at the sight of his furrowed brow, the lines of worry etched deeper than before. His exhaustion was palpable, the weight of the last few weeks pressing down on his shoulders like a cloak of lead. 
This was the first peaceful night he had experienced in what felt like an eternity, the tension of his world fading away in the gentle embrace of slumber. You wanted to memorize this moment – the way the moonlight danced over his features, casting soft shadows across his face, the way his dark hair fell just slightly over his eyes, giving him an air of vulnerability that made you want to reach out and touch him.
You did, your fingers almost brushing against his arm, pulled back by the cold force that kept you apart, seeking that connection that felt so vital. You caressed his skin, feeling the chill that seemed to seep into your very being, a reminder of the void that existed between you. 
The coldness of your absent touch pricked at your heart, a reminder of the harsh reality that loomed over both of you. He needed warmth, needed the light of hope that had grown dim in the shadows of despair. At your closeness, he shivered.
But the silence hung thick in the air, heavy with unspoken words and the weight of a future that felt increasingly uncertain. You had both chosen not to speak of the bridge again – the dangerous path that laid before him. It was a bridge of dreams and desires, but also of dark sorcery and heart-wrenching consequences. 
The memories of your conversation swirled in your mind, filling you with a mixture of sadness and fear. He had been so adamant, his eyes shining with fervor as he described the ritual, a lifeline he believed would tether you together forever.
In that moment, watching him sleep, you felt a sharp pang of regret. You wished you could take away his pain, ease the burden that threatened to crush him. The thoughts of all that could be flooded your mind: the moments you had shared, the laughter, the quiet intimacy of simply being together, and the love that blossomed in the quiet spaces between you. And yet, here you were, confronted by the reality of what you could not allow him to do.
You let out a soft sigh, your heart aching with unspoken love. Jace stirred slightly, his face softening as he unconsciously leaned closer to you. You felt a flicker of warmth bloom in your chest, but it quickly dissipated, swallowed by the chill of your predicament.
The first light of dawn crept slowly over the horizon, bathing the garden in hues of gold and rose, signaling your time together was drawing to a close. You felt the familiar tug at your being, the bittersweet ache of departure settling in your chest. 
With one last glance at his peaceful face, you felt the pull deepen, the soft light of dawn fading into the background as you began to slip away. He stirred again, a frown creasing his brow as if sensing your departure. You wished you could linger just a moment longer, to bask in the warmth of his presence, but the light of day beckoned you back to your ethereal realm.
When he awoke, the garden would be empty, echoing with the silence of your absence. You hoped he would remember this moment, this fleeting night where peace settled over him like a warm embrace, even if just for a time. As you faded, the ache in your heart felt heavier than ever, knowing the truth of your parting would leave him more vulnerable than before.
In the quiet of the garden, the morning sun rose, the shadows shifting and stretching as if reluctant to let go of the night. You slipped away, leaving only a whisper of your presence behind, a lingering sense of love intertwined with sorrow. The silence enveloped the garden, and Jace, awakening alone, would find only the echo of your touch and the hollow ache of your absence, a reminder that love, while eternal, often came with a cost far too high to bear.
* * *
Whispers swirled through the halls of the city, soft yet insistent, painting Jace as a fool, a prince teetering on the edge of madness. They spoke in hushed tones of his folly, the madness of pursuing a ghostly love, feeding on their suspicions like wolves drawn to the scent of blood. 
One of the witches he had confided in curiously, emboldened by too many cups of wine, let slip secrets of his obsession, igniting the rumors that danced through the court like shadows. 
But Jace didn’t care. The laughter and scorn of those around him faded into a dull roar, drowned out by the thundering of his heart, filled with a desperate hope that this ritual might bridge the chasm between life and death. In his mind, this was not insanity; it was a daring act of love, a chance to grasp what fate had cruelly stolen from him.
Each day, he navigated the city with a singular purpose, his thoughts consumed by the idea of you, and the hope that perhaps – just perhaps – this could be a way for you to remain at his side.
Yet every time he envisioned a future with you, a stark reminder loomed in the corners of his mind: the unyielding divide that death had carved between your worlds. The weight of that truth settled heavily on his chest, a chain that grew tighter with each passing moment. 
His duties as prince, once a source of pride, now felt like shackles. He neglected council meetings, the mundane discussions of trade and alliances slipping away like sand through his fingers. His advisors, sensing his distraction, exchanged concerned glances, their voices laced with unease. “Jace, you must focus,” they urged, but he only nodded absently, his mind already wandering back to thoughts of you. 
In the evenings, as twilight draped the kingdom in soft shadows, he retreated to the solitude of the garden where you lingered. Each night, he felt the pull of that sacred space – the air heavy with the scent of blooming jasmine and moonlit petals. He sought solace there, hoping to reclaim the fragments of joy you had once shared. But the weight of his unfulfilled longing pressed down, sharper and more suffocating than ever.
The moments spent with you grew more intense, electric with a mixture of desperation and longing. He would sit on the stone bench where you had once laughed, your voice weaving tales of adventure and mischief. Now, it felt more like a requiem for a love that could never fully blossom. 
Each word was a dagger to his heart, carving out the reality of your absence with an aching precision. He could almost feel your phantom touch, the brush of your fingers against his skin, igniting a fire that burned deep within him through the cold feeling of your closeness.
As the days turned into nights, the conversations shifted from dreams to regrets, heavy with the weight of the choices that lay before him. “What would it be like if you were still alive?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Would you still laugh at my terrible jokes? Would you dance with me in the moonlight?” The questions lingered in the air, unanswered, yet their weight hung over them like a storm cloud.
But each exchange only deepened his despair. The yearning within him grew sharper, more acute, a constant ache that gnawed at his soul. The more he sought solace in these stolen moments, the more painfully aware he became of the reality separating you: a gaping maw of darkness that swallowed every hope, every dream, leaving him grasping at shadows.
One fateful night, as he clutched your hands in his, he noticed how your fingers slipped through his like mist. It was a haunting reminder that even in the moments he felt closest to you, there was still an insurmountable distance. Jace’s heart thundered in his chest as he realized how far he was willing to go to close that gap. 
As the stars blinked down upon them, Jace felt time slipping away, each moment a countdown to an unknown fate. And as he looked into your eyes, he knew he was ready to cross that line, to risk everything for the chance to hold you again, even if it meant tearing apart the very fabric of reality. The tension crackled in the air, heavy with unspoken words, as he silently resolved to pursue the only path he believed could bring you together again, unaware of the darkness that lay in wait.
* * *
The moon hung low in the sky, casting a gentle silver glow over the garden, illuminating the vibrant flowers that swayed softly in the night breeze. The air was sweet with the scent of jasmine, weaving its way around you as you stood in the sacred space where you had spent countless hours with Jace.
He approached, a shadow stepping into the light, and as he drew closer, your heart fluttered with a mix of warmth and longing. You had always felt a magnetic pull toward him, a connection that transcended the bounds of life and death, binding you in an invisible thread of love and desire.
“Jace,” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper, yet it echoed in the stillness of the night. His gaze locked onto yours, a mixture of hope and yearning dancing in the depths of his dark eyes. He stepped closer, the distance between you shrinking until you could almost feel the warmth radiating from his skin.
“I just want to feel you,” he murmured, his voice thick with longing. The intensity of his gaze sent shivers down your spine, and for a moment, everything around you faded, leaving just the two of you in this suspended moment of intimacy.
He reached for you, his fingers stretching out, trembling with anticipation. Your heart raced as he attempted to touch your cheek, but the chill of the air intervened, and with it, a sudden surge of panic washed over him. In his eagerness, he knocked over a nearby candle, the flame flickering violently as hot wax splattered across his hand. A gasp escaped your lips as you watched, horror-stricken, his skin marred by the sudden pain.
“Jace!” You reached out instinctively, your hands hovering over the injured area, desperate to comfort him. His hand had reddened, a raw reminder of the recklessness born of his longing. But when he turned to you, a grin broke across his face, and it was so achingly beautiful that it momentarily took your breath away.
“It’s just a scratch,” he laughed, the sound echoing through the garden, bright and defiant against the night. “It’s nothing.” His eyes sparkled with mischief, as if he were not just a prince who had just hurt himself, but a boy caught in a moment of pure joy.
You frowned, your brow knitting together in concern as you reached out to touch his hand, careful and gentle. “You’re hurt! We should get you some water and–”
He interjected, his voice steady and full of warmth. “But I felt you.” His smile widened, a radiance that illuminated the shadows of the garden. “For a moment, I felt you.” The sincerity in his gaze made your heart ache with a fierce mix of love and worry.
You couldn’t help but laugh softly despite your concern, the sound mingling with the cool night air. “Jace, you’re reckless.” But even as you chastised him, you were drawn to the warmth that spread through you at his words. The way he looked at you, with that mixture of joy and determination, made the air crackle between you.
He held your gaze, and in that moment, all worries faded. The pain in his hand became a distant echo, overshadowed by the warmth of your connection. “I’d rather feel pain if it means I can be close to you, even for a second.”
You felt a rush of emotion swell within you, the profound weight of his words settling around your heart. You studied the way his hand trembled, and despite the coldness of his injury, he seemed so alive, so vibrant, and so utterly present.
* * *
As the days turned into months, the whispers of the young prince’s death echoed through the corridors of Dragonstone, weaving tales of sorrow and longing among the castle’s inhabitants. They spoke of the prince who had joined the ghosts, a boy who roamed the halls with an ethereal presence, forever bound to the place he loved. 
With each passing twilight, the soft glow of candlelight flickered against the ancient stone, illuminating the memories etched in the walls – moments of laughter, shared secrets, and the bittersweet ache of lost time. The air was thick with nostalgia, a fragrant reminder of the love that transcended life itself. 
In the garden where you had once nurtured your dreams and hopes with Jace, the scent of jasmine wrapped around you, weaving its way into the fabric of your being. There, you felt the weight of his hand in yours, a warm and gentle presence that defied the chill of his spectral form. Together, you wandered through the memories of your shared past, reliving the joy and heartache of your fleeting moments together.
Though the world outside continued its relentless march forward, you remained anchored in this sacred space, your heart entwined with his in a delicate dance of longing and peace. The whispers of the castle spoke of tragedy, yet you found solace in the closeness that enveloped you both – a haunting, bittersweet sense of comfort that came from knowing he would never truly leave.
In this realm of shadows and dreams, Jace had finally found the closeness he had yearned for, though it came at the ultimate price. You understood the weight of his sacrifice, the depths of love that bound you together beyond the veil of death. Each heartbeat echoed the promise of eternity, a reminder that love knows no bounds, no finality.
As the moonlight bathed the garden in its soft glow, you closed your eyes, surrendering to the peace that wrapped around you like a shroud. You could feel him beside you, his essence entwined with your own, a flickering flame against the darkness. In this quiet sanctuary, you understood that love, in all its forms, endures.
Jace had always yearned for closeness, a desire that had pulsed in the very fabric of his being. In life, it had manifested in impossible touches, stolen glances, and moments that felt both too brief and too precious to contain. Now, in death, he walked alongside you with a presence that felt transcendent. His ghostly form was not merely a shadow; it was a testament to the love that had forged its way through the veil between worlds.
And so, hand in hand, you embraced the eternity that awaited you, forever tethered to the ghost of the prince who had defied fate for the sake of love. Together, you would walk the ethereal paths of Dragonstone, your hearts united, whispering the echoes of a haunting tale that would resonate through time – a story of longing, sacrifice, and the bittersweet beauty of forever.
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sapphire-writes · 2 years ago
Text
The Au Pair (modern!HOTD) part 1
Part 1 ~ Part 2
pairing: Daemon x fem!Reader x Rhaenyra
summary: You take a new job nannying for a family on the Upper East Side. You find yourself intrigued by both parents.
warnings: 18+ (slight power imbalance as they're your bosses, sensual themes), language
word count: 3.1k
note: I've been in a Daemon x Rhae mood and this idea came to me and suddenly it is here, enjoy my loves!
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When you looked up at the high-rise apartment building, you felt your stomach drop. You had always been that way with heights, whether looking down or looking up at something tall, the feeling of intense vertigo washing over you. You took in a deep breath to steady yourself, draining the rest of your coffee before walking in. 
Throwing the cup in a nearby bin, you popped a mint into your mouth to hopefully disguise your coffee breath. 
You’d nannied before but never au-paired. It seemed to be a little more intense, having you live with the family, and become a part of the family. But you had to get out of your current living situation, and the website was too tempting to pass up. 
You didn’t even think you’d get a response when you sent in your resume. You recognized the family name; old money, the backbone of Wall Street. It was too good to be true when you received an email inviting you in person for an interview.
Still, the thought of caring for three boys was nearly overwhelming. 
“You’ll only truly be a little help,” Rhaenyra had told you, after leading you through the foyer, giving you hot tea in a cup that felt so delicate it might break in your small hands. 
Rhaenyra had ushered you to the sofa, before sitting in the one directly across. She crossed her ankles, clad in a dark maroon suit, her silver hair striking against the wine-colored fabric. She was ethereally beautiful, the kind of pretty that takes your breath away. 
“Luke and Joff are the littles, they require the most attention,” Rhaenyra explained.
You take a sip of the tea, warmth flooding through you.
“How old are they?” you ask, blowing on the tea. 
“Jacaerys is the oldest, he’s nine, then there’s Luke who is seven, and little Joffrey is only four,” Rhaenyra tells you.
“No girls?” you ask and she shakes her head. 
“Daemon’s daughters Baela and Rhaena sometimes visit during the week, they’re nine as well. They live with their mother mostly, and often spend the weekends with us.”
“You have a full house,” you comment, smiling.
“Several,” Rhaenyra answers, mirroring your smile, “We have two apartments here, in the city, during the weekends we go to our house, outside of the city.”
“That’s wonderful, that you’re able to get away,” you tell her, “the city can be overwhelming.”
“I agree,” she says, “it’s nice to have an escape. So, tell me about yourself,” she cocks her head to the side, “what made you want this position?”
You sigh, deciding it's best to be truthful.
“Well, I’ve worked with kids before, on and off,” you begin, “some babysitting, nannying, I was a camp counselor for one summer.”
Rhaenyra nods, her violet eyes warm and inviting.
“I also, just recently lost my apartment,” you tell her, “it’s a long story, but I need to be out by the end of the month, so a job that comes with a place to live was very tempting.”
Rhaenyra smiles, and you nervously play with the rings on your fingers. 
“I can be really good with the kids, I think we’ll get along great.”
Rhaenyra looks you up and down as the door opens. The most beautiful man you’ve ever seen walks in, throwing his briefcase on the counter. His silver hair falls in front of his eyes as he leans against the counter, tapping his ring-clad fingers against the black marble.
“Daemon,” she calls, not turning around, “meet our guest.”
Daemon simply glances at you, busy with something on his phone.
“He’ll warm up, don’t you worry,” Rhaenya says, standing.
“I won’t let you down if given this opportunity,” you tell her, placing your teacup down and standing to leave.
“I know you won’t,” she says, taking your arm to lead you to the door, “let me discuss with my husband, and we’ll let you know.”
“Thank you, truly,” you tell her at the door, “It was nice to meet you, ma’am.”
“Please, call me Rhaenyra,” she insists.
“Rhaenyra,” you say, and she leads you out.
Rhaenyra sighs, returning to the couch and flipping through your resume once more. 
“I’m shocked you let her leave,” Daemon says, dropping a kiss on Rhaenyra’s head, and squeezing her shoulder with a ring-clad hand.
“She’ll be back,” Rhaenyra assures him, “I’m taking it slow.”
“Surprising,” Daemon says, “with her calling you ma’am so sweetly.”
Rhaenyra merely glances up at him, smiling coyly at her husband. 
“I’ll give her a call this evening then,” Rhaneyra says, kissing the back of his hand, “officially offer her the job?”
“Call her now, if you like,” Daemon tells her.
“She’s probably still in the building,” Rhaenyra says with a chuckle.
“Even better,” Daemon says.
Rhaenyra hums, pulling out her phone.
“Someone’s eager,” Rhaenyra teases, earning a low growl from her husband.
After celebratory drinks with your girlfriends and packing all your shit into boxes, a car picks you up bringing you to your new home. You’re shown to your room by one of the housekeepers. It’s perfect for you, with large windows and a private bathroom. The bed feels like heaven as you lay on top of it. You can’t believe your luck. 
You’re introduced to the boys when they come home from school. While Jace is apprehensive, Luke warms to you right away, insisting on showing you his collection of Lego model sets. Dragons are his favorite at the moment. You spend the afternoon with them, and the day flies by. 
Only when you’re in your room later, fresh out of the shower and dressed for bed do you realize you’ve lost something rather important in the move. You silently curse, and pad down the hallway toward the home office Rhaenyra uses. 
“Mrs. Targaryen?” you ask, knocking on the office door.
Rhaenyra beckons you in, smiling, removing her blue light glasses and looking away from the computer. 
“I’m so sorry to bother you-”
“Nonsense, darling, what is it?” Rhaenyra says, lacing her fingers together, “and what did I say about addressing me?”
You blush, forgetting yourself. You find it easy to get flustered in Rhaenyra’s presence. 
“I’m sorry, Rhaenyra,” you correct yourself.
“You don’t have to say sorry,” she tells you.
Her tone is so sweet, so kind, and loving that it almost makes you want to apologize again. You release a breathy laugh instead. 
“I seem to have lost my hairbrush in the move,” you tell her, “you wouldn’t happen to have an extra one lying around?”
Rhaenyra stands, walking out from behind her desk and toward you. 
“Of course, come here,” she tells you, reaching for your hand.
It's warm and soft as she interlaces her fingers with yours, pulling you out of the home office and down the hallway. You haven’t yet seen Daemon and Rhaenyra’s room, though you realize this is about to change. She opens the door and brings you into their room. 
You can’t help but gawk at windows that stretch from the floor to the ceiling revealing the New York City skyline. The curtains are still open, revealing the sparkling city below. Daemon is already seated in bed on top of the covers reading, looking up as you enter with Rhaenyra. 
“Already?” he asks, and Rhaenyra shushes him.
“Our friend is without a hairbrush,” she says, releasing your hand and moving to enter the master bathroom. 
Daemon hums at her response, returning to his book. The bed is huge, big enough to comfortably fit the whole family if they wanted. The sheets are a deep gray, and look like they’re made of the softest silk. You almost want to reach out and touch them, feel the softness when Rhaenyra reenters the room.
“Sit,” she tells you, motioning to the bed.
“That’s okay,” you assure her, “I can-”
“It’s the least I can do,” she interrupts.
You want to argue with her. They’re letting you live in a gorgeous highrise on the Upper East Side and essentially want for nothing, and yet they’re the ones who are grateful? You suppose it just shows what good parents they are, wanting nothing but the best for the boys. It warms your heart knowing you can help support them in that way. 
Rhaenyra motions to the bed once more and you sit down on the edge. You know immediately that sleeping in that bed would cure any problems you’ve ever had. It’s so soft against you and you run your hand over the sheets. Rhaenyra sits next to you, crossing her legs. 
“Turn for me,” she says, and you move so your back faces her. 
She takes your hair, still wet from your shower, and runs her hands through it gently. You can feel her nails against your scalp causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. She moves the hair from your neck before gently beginning to brush through your hair. It’s so relaxing your eyes flutter shut. 
Daemon is watching now, closing his book and leaning his head back against the headboard. Rhaenyra meets his gaze and his eyes narrow. She flicks an eyebrow at him, continuing. Daemon sticks his tongue against his cheek before rising from the bed. You open your eyes as you feel him move, watching as you walk by you, stopping to press a kiss against Rhaenyra’s cheek.
He heads into the bathroom, not bothering to close the door as you hear the shower turn on. Rhaenyra places the brush on your lap.
“There you are,” she tells you, placing her hands on your shoulder and squeezing.
“Thank you,” you tell her earnestly. 
Her kindness brings tears to your eyes and you find yourself wanting to hug her, bury your face in the crook of her neck, and have her lavish your face with kisses. The thought brings a blush to your cheeks. She’s your boss. Still, as you get up to leave and bid her goodnight, you find your gaze falling to her lips. You look away quickly.
“Thank you again, Rhaenyra,” you tell her, “For everything. I’m really grateful for this opportunity.”
Rhaenyra smiles, smoothing some hair from your face.
“We’re happy to have you,” she tells you, “Goodnight, my dear.”
“Goodnight,” you tell her, leaving the room and heading to your own.
Daemon reappears with wet hair and a towel around his waist. Droplets of water cling to his chest and shoulders. Rhaenyra smirks at him.
“Enjoy your cold shower?” she teases and he chuckles in response. 
The following week is a test run, seeing how you handle the boys and their schedule. It’s easy enough-no scarily easy. The boys are a dream, so well behaved and respectful toward you, and enjoying the attention that is devoted to them while their mother and stepfather are busy working. 
Your schedule is simple. Wake up, make sure the boys get their breakfast, escort them to school, and then the rest of the morning and early afternoon is yours. Rhaenyra has assured you that sometimes she shall give you some errands to run, but for the most part, you’re free to ponder around different coffee shops and bookstores and attend your university classes. 
You pick up Joffrey first, as his daycare releases him in the early afternoon, and bring him on a walk. Then you wait for Jace and Luke to end their school days and escort them to their afterschool activities. You almost feel bad for Rhaenyra and Daemon, like you’re taking advantage of them somehow. It shouldn’t be this easy, right? It can’t be this perfect?
You’re still lost in your thoughts while you sit on a park bench watching Joffrey toddle about on a play structure as someone sits down beside you. You blink, pulled from your thoughts, giving her a kind smile. 
“You’re the new Targaryen AP, right?” the girl asks, smiling at you.
“Yeah!” you answer, telling her your name. 
“I’m Shae,” she tells you, “The Lannister’s Au Pair.”
You nod. You’ve heard that name before. Shae points at a little girl with golden curls on the swings. 
“Cerelle Lannister, one of the little lions I look after,” she says chuckling. 
She motions for your phone.
“Here, let me put in my number,” she tells you, and you smile while handing her your phone, “We have to stick together, you know?”
“Thanks,” you tell her, “I’d love to get coffee sometime and get some advice. This is my first time being an Au Pair.”
Shae raises an eyebrow as she adds her number. 
“Good luck with the Targaryens,” she tells you chuckling, “they can’t seem to hold onto an AP for more than a month.”
Your brow furrows and you glance at the boys. You can see Jace running across the soccer field and Luke on the other side with the younger boys. Joffrey plays on the playground, staying in your line of sight. You can’t help but smile.
“I don’t see why,” you tell her, “the boys are great. Very well behaved, impressive manners. Better than me.”
Shae laughs. 
“It’s Daemon and Rhaenyra I’d be wary of,” Shae tells you, voice lowering with the nature of the conversation, “the last girl they had was doing fine until suddenly she’s signing an NDA and being shipped out of New York. I never spoke to her again.”
A chill rolls through you. 
Jace calls your name, running over to you.
“Did you see what I did!” he says, a huge grin on his face, Luke trailing behind him.
“You were so awesome Jacey!” you tell him, ruffling his hair.
They’ve warmed up to you immediately. 
You keep thinking about what Shae said all night. When you join the kids for dinner, Rhaenyra and Daemon do not, as they ended up having to work late. When you tuck them in and return to your room you find a small box on your bed. 
You open it, revealing a small necklace. Dainty, and expensive, with a small pearl hanging off the chain. 
A gift. 
You pick up the card that goes with it.
For all your help, xx
There’s no signature. Though you suppose it must be from Rhaenyra. You blush at the kind gesture before retiring to bed for the night, curling up in the soft sheets with a book.
The next few weeks go smoothly, and without any fusses. The boys are lovely as ever and easy to drag around to different parks, activities, and school functions. They’re starting to feel like your little brothers, like your own children even. You journey with them to the weekend house, an hour outside the city, roasting marshmallows, swimming in the gorgeous pool, and taking them to get ice cream. It’s paradise, it’s a dream. 
You see Rhaenyra more than Daemon, though she was right. He does seem to be warming up to you, glancing at you more, checking in on you. Sitting with you when you’re at the counter for breakfast. Letting a hand drift across your back as he passes by.
You keep finding gifts. A silk robe, a new purse, a pair of earrings that match the necklace given to you. Fresh flowers by your bedside. It’s very sweet of them, to be so welcoming. Almost romantic. 
Later one night during the week, you can’t seem to find sleep.
You make your way to the kitchen, feet padding softly down the hallway. Rhaenyra had said to help yourself to anything, what’s theirs is yours. You’d been craving something sweet since dinner. Since moving into the highrise your palate has begun to adjust to the rich, expensive foods the chef makes and has begun to spoil you. You’re starting to wonder how you’ll ever go back to living normally when this job ends. It’s not something you want to think about. You’re determined to stay as long as possible. 
You open the fridge, the light bathing the floor in front of you. You look around, moving things trying to find a treat. Their fridge is crazy stocked, full of fresh fruits and vegetables, and green juices. Things that sound good any time but now. Now you need chocolate. 
“Looking for something?” a deep voice calls and you jump.
“Shit, you scared me, sir,” you say, holding your hand against your chest. 
Daemon moves toward you from the shadows, silk pajama pants hanging low on his hips. He’s shirtless and you make a point to look at his lavender eyes. They’re almost black in the low light, a smirk dancing on his lips. 
“I was just looking for something sweet,” you tell him, biting your lip.
“Something sweet, hmm?” he echoes, reaching around you to open the freezer. 
You back up, suddenly very aware of your choice of pajamas. Another gift you’d found waiting on your bed, a silky red set. The tank top hands low, the shorts hugging the curves of your ass and thighs. 
“Try this,” Daemon says, holding out some gelato.
You let out a breathy sigh. 
“What?” Daemon asks, tilting his head curiously.
“Everything here is so fancy,” you tell him, “even the ice cream.”
“Isn't it nice to have expensive things?” he asks, unscrewing the lid and throwing it on the black marble counter.
“I don’t know if I’ll like it,” you tell him, nose scrunching.
He chuckles, cocking an eyebrow. Daemon reaches for a drawer, pulling out a long silver spoon, perfect for ice cream. He dips it into the gelato before bringing his violet eyes to yours.
“Open your mouth,” he murmurs, holding the spoon out to your lips.
With his seductive tone, the roughness of his voice floating over you like silk caressing your skin, you instinctively part your lips, accepting the sweet treat. It’s cold and sweet as it moves across your tongue, sliding down your throat. A bit dribbles on your lips as Daemon removes the spoon from the confines of your mouth. A small remnant of the cream lingers on the spoon and Daemon places it between his lips. 
Your eyes are wide, watching him suck on it, and you can feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. He removes the spoon, licking his lips. You bring your hand to your lips wiping away the trace of cream that remains.
“Do you like it?” Daemon asks, voice gruff, eyes hungry for more than gelato. 
“Yes,” you breathe. 
He smiles and then places the container in your hand.
“Enjoy,” he tells you, before walking out of the kitchen. 
You stay still, standing dumb for several minutes after he leaves, feeling the container of gelato begin to soften the longer you hold it. Snapping out of your trance, you hurry back to your room, closing the door behind you. 
note: hope you enjoyed my loves! 😘
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anyca786 · 1 month ago
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"TEN YEARS CAN CHANGE EVERYTHING"
Daemon Targaryen x sister/aunt!Targaryen x Rhaenyra Targaryen
WARNINGS: canon typical incest/targcest (brother & sister &niece) poly relationship, family drama.
Series
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The moon cast an ethereal glow over the beach as Daenys stirred from her sleep. A warm hand touched her shoulder, rousing her from her slumber.
She opened her eyes to find Daemon standing beside her, "We need to go," he said, his voice low and urgent.
Daenys sat up, her heart pounding in her chest. "What's wrong?" reading his face, she asked.
"The guards are looking for us," Daemon replied.
"The children are in trouble." Rhaenyra said, who was already dressed up. Daenys scrambled to her feet, her mind racing. She pulled on her clothes, her movements hurried and clumsy. Daemon helped her zip up her dress, his hands gentle but firm.
"We need to hurry," Rhaenyra said, her voice filled with panic.
Daenys nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. Without a word, she followed Daemon and Rhaenyra as they hurried towards the castle, their footsteps imprinted on the beach.
🥀
The doors open as Daenys and Rhaenyra wasted no time going over to their children, "Jace? Luke? Luke!" Rhaenyra's eyes darted to Luke's nose, as she examined it, "Show me, show me."
Rhaenys was consoling Baela and Rhaena wearing an expression of horror and mixed anger.
Daenys ushered for Baela and Rhaena to stand close making the girls quickly move into her nurturing embrace, looking wide-eyed and frightened, "Gods what happened? Who did this to you? I'll skin them alive." She turned her head to the people across the room and then her eyes stopped at where Alicent stood with Aemond.
'What happened - who did this?" Rhaenyra's eyes trained on the boys and Baela and Rhaena.
Daemon stood by the door observing the situation. He looked quite smug seeing the damage done to the boy, Aemond. His daughters sported only a few cuts, if anything he wasn't concerned much knowing Daenys would take care of it.
"They attacked me!"
"He attacked Baela!"
"He broke Luke's nose!"
All the children started arguing with one another.
"Enough..." the King's commands were deaf in people's ears until he raised his voice, "Enough -"
Alicent started to yell, "It should be my son telling the tale!"
'He called us -" Jace was about to finish his sentence when the King yelled "SILENCE!"
'He called us bastards!" Jace whispered to his mother
That was all Rhaenyra needed to hear. Rhaenyra stood tall holding Luke and Jace's hands, she could she Daenys fuming with anger, who couldn't help but pull Luke's curls back in a comforting manner and protective manner.
"Aemond, I will have the truth of what happened." Viserys walked over to his son, his cane echoed at each word, "Now."
"What else is there to hear," Alicent speaks up, wanting to defend her son. "Your son has been maimed. Her son is responsible,"' she tells the King and pointed toward Luke who was hiding between his mother and brother.
"It was a regrettable accident,"' Rhaenyra tells Alicent, who doesn't care because, in her point of view, it was punishment enough for calling her children bastards and giving a small injuries to Daemon's daughters as well.
"Accident?" Alicent scoffed, walking closer to Rhaenyra. "The Prince Lucerys brought a blade to an ambush. He meant to kill my son."
"Do you even hear yourself, Alicent?," Daenys voiced, seeing how frightened Lucaerys looked, "He's a child"
"It was my sons who were attacked and were forced to defend themselves," Rhaenyra stated, "Vile insults were levied against them,"
The King turned to his daughter with narrowed eyes, "What insults?"
"The legitimacy of my children's birth was put to question." Rhaenyra said.
"What?" the King asked, not wanting to think that Aemond would say such a thing to Rhaenyra's children.
"He called us bastards." The boy's said out loud.
The smirk plastered on Aemond's face was enough for Daenys, she look at Alicent knowing exactly where he had learned those words.
"My sons are in line to inherit the Iron Throne, Your Grace," Rhaenyra argued, "This is the highest of treasons. Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders,'
"Over an insult?" Alicent asked fumingly and the King slowly made his way over to Aemond, "My son has lost an eye!"
"You tell me, boy," Where did you hear this lie?" the King asked.
"The insults were training yard bluster. The yard of boys was nothing." Alicent tries to hide it. Daenys' eyes met Daemon, who was throughly enjoying this mess.
"Aemond, I asked you a question." the King said sternly. He wanted to know who would say such vile things about his grandsons.
"Where is Ser Laenor, I wonder? the children's father? Perhaps he might have something to say in this matter," Alicent tries to move the King's attention away from Aemond to protect her precious boy.
'Yes, where is Ser Laenor?" the King questioned Rhaenyra.
"I do not know, Your Grace.. could not find sleep. I went out to walk." Rhaenyra lied, sharing a glance at Daenys.
"Entertaining his young squires, I would venture," Alicent said, trying to keep the attention off Aemond. Ser Criston Cole chuckled, which did not go unnoticed by Daenys.
"Aemond, Look at me," Viserys said to his son, "Your Kingdom earns an answer," Aemond looks at his mother, "Who spoke these lies to you?," he asked again.
"Everyone knows where those lies came from." Daenys spoke up once more this time making her side known, her eyes filled with sorrow and outrage.
Aemond looked at his Aunt Daenys, his father adored her a lot. Growing up he had heard tales of her beauty, fiercenes and strong will and determination.
Aemond bowed his head ashamed, 'It was Aegon.'" Aemond lied, not wanting the blame to fall on his mother.
"Me?" Aegon asked hurt that his brother threw him under the bus. He was terrified now that Aemond shifted the attention to him.
The King turned to his eldest son and walked as his cane allowed him to."And you boy? Where did you hear such calumnies?" Viserys questioned Aegon.
When Aegon did not answer he looked down at his feet, The last piece of patience left the frail man, "AEGON! tell me the truth about it!"
'We know, father. Everyone knows." Aegon answered looking at Rhaenyra and her children as she had held them close "Just look at them"
Indeed Rhaenyra's sons harbored no resemblance to their father Ser Laenor with their dark hair and brown eyes. Holding no resemblance to Targaryens either.
The people in the room went silent, Daenys heart was pounding. The majority knew the truth yet Viserys chooses to remain in denial.
"The interminable infighting must cease!" Viserys demands He was shouting at all those who were present, not only at his blood. To everyone else that had something to say. His face was exhausted like he was trying not to break down to tears, "All of you! We are a family! Now make your apologies and show goodwill to one another. Your father, your grandsire, your King demands it!"
"That is insufficient," Alicent argued, as Viserys made his way to leave, "Aemond has been damaged permanently, My King. Goodwill cannot make him whole," Alicent beseeched desperately.
"I know Alicent, but I cannot restore his eye," Viserys reasoned with his wife.
"No, because it has been taken," Alicent yells at the King wanting to draw blood in revenge.
"What would you have me do?" Viserys asked.
"There is a debt to be paid," Alicent tells him and looks straight at Rhaenyra, and then to her sons. "I shall have one of her children's eyes in return."
"The fuck you will" Daenys said this time, fuming with anger. She could feel Rhaenyra holding her robe for her to not go near Alicent.
"My dear wife,-" Viserys tried to get some sense into her head, but in vain, ""He is your son, Viserys. Your blood." Alicent tries to reason vulnerable.
"Do not..allow your temper to guide your judgment, Viserys said to alicent and tried to leave the room, closing the matter.
'If the King do not seek justice, then the Queen will, Alicent decides, and looks at Ser Criston. Their hatred for Princess Rhaenyra had grown over the years. "Ser Criston, bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon" she demanded.
"Mother!" Luke cries out again, moving closer behind Rhaenyra. Daenys wasted no time, handing her daughters to Rhaenys's protection and shielding Rhaenyra and her sons from the chaos.
"They can choose which eye they can keep and who will give it, a privilege that my son was not granted," Alicent told Ser Criston.
"You will do no such thing!" Viserys commanded.
"Stay your hand!" Ser Harrold commanded Ser Criston.
"No, you are sworn to me!" Alicent shouted at Ser Criston, waiting for him to strike,
"Do not move, Ser Criston," Daenys said.
"As your protector My Queen," Ser Criston corrected while looking conflicted, Ser Criston always had a liking of the Realm's Beauty.
Viserys once again tells her that it is over. "Anyone that questions Rhaenyra's children would have their tongues cut out."
"Thank you, Father," Rhaenyra said graciously and turned her back to check on her children, Daenys wiped the blood running down Luke's nose with her handkerchief.
Seeing that Rhaenyra won once again, Alicent saw red. Alicent briskly made her way over to the King and grabbed the blade attached to his hip. She made her way over straight at the Targaryen women.
Ser Harrold runs down the steps and past the King, as Cole tries move past the people and straight to Rhaenyra and her children. The screams of the children could be heard in the commotion.
Before Alicent could strike at Rhaenyra, Daenys stepped in front, just in time to grab ahold of her arm and keep the dagger from inflicting harm on her niece, her lover.
"Daenys!" It was the sound of Daemon trying to make his way over. "Daenys!" Rhaenyra panicked, trying to steady her by holding her waist protectively.
'-Alicent stop this madness, before it goes too far,"Daenys said, struggling to hold her back. She could feel Rhaenyra's hands on her hips trying to steady her fall.
Daemon stopped Ser Criston from getting into the circle.
Alicent snarled seeing Rhaenyra's head over Daenys's shoulder, "You've gone too far!" Rhaenyra snapped at her.
"I-" Alicent answered in distress, "Alicent do not do this," Daenys said trying to keep her away from Rhaenyra.
Ignoring Daenys, Alicent spoke to Rhaenyra, "What have I done, of what was expected of me. Forever upholding the kingdom, the family, the law, while you ......." Daenys vision was getting blurry and sounds become muffled.
"But now they see you as you are", Daenys heard Rhaenyra clear, Alicent squeezed Daenys's shoulder causing her to yell out in pain, "How could you defend her?"
Daenys lets out a breath and stared deep into her forest eyes. "I scarcely even recognize you now, Alicent" she bit back. "You're turning into your father.'" Her eyes wandered to Otto. The words stab her deeply and Alicent let out a frustrated scream.
"Release the blade Alicent!" Otto ordered his daughter.
"Get the fuck away!" Daemon fought through, slightly panicked. Alicent pushed all her body weight and brought the blade down, slashing down at her collar bone area, close to her throat.
"No!" Rhaenyra screamed, trying to take the dagger away from Alicent but in the process, slicing her own wrist.
Drops of warm blood hit the stone floors. The Valyrian blade lodged deep into their porcelain skin. Shock settled into the room.
"I..' Alicent tried to speak but Daenys stepped back into Daemon's arms.
Rhaenyra thought Alicent wasn't capable of murder. She remembered the conversations on the beach she had with Daemon, when Daenys was asleep.Perhaps the Queen was capable of it. All these years was enough to change a person.
Viserys stood beside Alicent, who stood frozen and stared at the blade that has fallen from her grip.
Lord Corlys had caught Rhaenyra's shoulder who panicked more on seeing Daenys vulnerable.
"Stay with me- It's okay Look at me-" Daemon said calmly with a hint of anxiousness, when he saw her eyes closing slowly.
"Nyra, Daem-" she tried but darkness consumedand she falls in Daemon's arms.
It was as if the whole room was divided.Aemond had made his way over from his chair, " Do not mourn me, mother. It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye..but I gained a dragon."
Criston went to Alicent's side and picked up the knife. He seemed to have also been staring at both the wounded Princess speechless. Hoping Princess Daenys was alright.
Daemon lifted her off the floor and carried her out of the room. Rhaenys, Baela, and Rhaena followed after.
Alicent impulsively attempted to go after Daenys. She did not meant for her to get hurt in this, but she was stopped by Daemon,"You and your children caused enough trouble tonight," Daemon sneered at her and Alicent's children, "Nearly stealing away her life. Hope you satisfied with your debt" He said as he walked away with Daenys in his arms.
One by one Viserys watched his family leave and felt his heart break over again seeing his family in shambles all because of Alicent.
"Your son has disrespected the House Velaryon -my daughter who has been put to rest! Your wife who chose to inflict harm on your own daughter and sister. Pack up your things and once the sun is up you will leave Driftmark. You will not be welcome with your family anymore." Corlys roared infuriated and fed up with the amount of insolence his family had faced.
🥀
Daenys was resting in her bed chambers with Daemon holding her hand. Viserys, Rhaenys, Baela and Rhaena were right there when she woke up.
Viserys almost cried again seeing his beloved younger sister awake and was relieved. He pressed a kiss on her forehead and apologized for Alicent's behavior. He wanted to stay longer but the frail man still needed to deal with the actions of his wife and try to make amends with Lord Corlys.
"Thank the Gods, that the dagger did not puncture deeply into the flesh, otherwise... things would have gone differently," The Maester said as he examined the wound. "A small few stitches and proper rest will do,"
Daemon kissed her temple, "Anything else?" He asked the Maester. The Maester smiled and said, "Just take care of her, my Prince," and left.
Rhaenys who was pacing back and forth in the room sighed in relief. Baela and Rhaena were patched up by another Maester for the small cuts and bruises.
Daenys groaned in pain as the milk of the poppy was starting to wear off.
Baela peered up "Are you in pain, Muña?"
Daemon was slightly taken back hearing his daughters refer Daenys as their mother for the first time.
'I'Il be all well, it doesn't hurt much." Daenys sat up slowly with the help of Daemon. "You forget that I've had far worst injures than this before,"
Rhaena shook her head in guilt, "It's our fault that you got hurt."
"Oh my sweet girls, do not blame yourselves for this," Daenys said with compassion and opened her arms for them. The girls carefully climbed up the bed and enveloped her into a hug. The sight made Daemon's heart melt.
The doors of her bed chambers opened, as Rhaenyra peaked inside,"Come in, Rhaenyra" Daenys said with a smile. Rhaneys left and the girls bid their goodbye by giving both Daemon and Daenys kisses on their cheeks.
Once the doors shut Rhaenyra focused her attention on the most beautiful Targaryen woman sitting underneath the duvet covers. She looked more pale and it was most likely due to the blood loss. Guilt ran through Rhaenyra's body. It was all her fault, she thought.
She immediately rushed to her side and let out a soft gasp as tears fell from her porcelain cheeks, "I'm so sorry, my love-this shouldn't have happened to you. This is my fault,"
"Rhaenyra, I'm well. Just a little light headed due to the milk and poppy." Daenys clasped her hand gently to calm her down.
Daemon cupped her face in his hands to stare at her before sighing in relief, then pulled her into his embrace, "I'm happy that you stood up for Rhaenyra but your carelessness could have gotten you killed, my love"
"I did not expect her to be like this. Alicent has never been like this. She was such a sweet girl," Daenys said, her voice muffled as she was still in Daemon's embrace. She remembered the days when the three girls would sit and gossip about anything and everything, the fun they had and the bond they shared back when they all were younger.
"Ten years can change everything," Daemon said.
Suddenly Daenys groaned in pain.
"Did I hurt you? Are you in pain?," Daemon asked this time, sitting on the side of her bed.
"No, it's just that the milk of the poppy is wearing off," she said. She looked at Rhaenyra's bandaged wrist and asked, "How is your wrist, my love?"
"Had a few stitches. The Maester said it will be heal sooner than yours," Rhaenyra said. Daenys smiled at her niece. How she had grown and now a mother of three.
"Come sit," she gestures Rhaenyra to sit on the other side of the bed. Rhaenyra smiled and happily compiled.
"Enough about me, I want to know about yor life, these past years," Rhaenyra smiled when Daenys cuddled to her side, "How is little Joffrey?" Daenys asked her.
For the first time, Rhaenyra wore a genuine smile, as Daenys cuddled at her side and Daemon retells them the stories of his travels. A family she always wanted, she thought.
As they continue to tell stories about their children and more, Daenys eyes began to slowly get heavy due to exhaustion. Within a few minutes, light snores escaped her mouth.
Both Daemon and Daenys smiled at the sight of their beloved. Daemon gently helped her into a more comfortable position. As Daenys was asleep, Rhaenyra spoke to Daemon, "We need to talk,"
Daemon and Rhaenyra carefully closed the doors of Daenys's bed chambers and walked out towards the terrace. They stood there admiring the vast sea. The sea winds running through their silver hair, the smell of salt and sea familiar to both.
"I need you, Uncle," Rhaenyra broke the silence, Daemon didn't say anything but just stared at the horizon. "I need you both," this time he looks at her face.
"I cannot face the Greens alone," she spoke in High Valyrian, "Let us bind our blood, Just as Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters"
"With you as my husband, my King Consort and Daenys as our wife, Queen Consort, my claim would not be so easily challenged,"
Daemon stares at her, "The Velaryons are the sea. But you, Daenys and I are are made of fire," Daemon turns and takes a seat on the wall of the terrace.
"We have always meant to be burned together," She continued. Finally Daemon spoke," We could not marry unless Laenor was dead,"
Rhaenyra stood silent for a moment," I know," she said. Their eyes exchanged a knowing look.
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A/N- Filler chapter. Family drama. Wedding bells ringing soon.
Quick question- Would you like a daughter or son for Daenys?
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marihoneywk · 1 year ago
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A dragon's ambition
Jacaerys Velaryon x older stepsister - one shot
Summary: Growing up under her father's influence in the Red Keep, Alysanne becomes determined to claim the Iron Throne. Feeling the sting of being overlooked and fuelled by ambition, Alysanne hatches a plan that involves the seduction of the heir to throne, her stepbrother Jacaerys, who also happens to be her half-sister's betrothed.
Warnings: incest (stepsiblings that are cousins), sexual content, p in v, tiddy succin, breeding kink, some fluff, third person narrative, oc is manipulative.
Word count: 3.8 k
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Alysanne Targaryen was the oldest daughter of Daemon Targaryen. Conceived in the only night Lady Rhea Royce and Daemon spent together, Alysanne wasn’t a desired child, as her mother secretly tried to end the pregnancy.
However, Alysanne was tough and stubborn since the womb and came into the world crying so loud, the whole Vale could hear her. 
Daemon welcomed his daughter to live with him in the Red Keep upon her third name day, raising her in his own ways, educating her to be cunning and fearless.
Alysanne had grown up to be her father’s female version, a thing that scared Daemon. Her sharp mind aligned with her ethereal looks, made a dangerous combination that didn’t let any man escape. With her sweet eyes and big eyelashes, not even the guards were able to refuse a single request she made, crumbling immediately to her pleads. 
Alysanne liked her sisters, Baela and Rhaena, but didn’t love them. They were nice and fun to be around, but she couldn’t stop wandering if perhaps her life would be better, if they weren’t around. 
She also liked to believe she was her father’s favourite daughter, even if she wasn’t sure. It was only fair right? Baela and Rhaena had their own mother to favour them, while Alysanne only had Daemon. Her mother had a brief presence in her life, dying in a tragic accident with her horse three moons before Alysanne moved to Kings Landing. 
Alysanne’s life was pleasant enough, but then, Lady Laena Velaryon died and Baela and Rhaena were also left with only one parent.
They just seemed to want everything Alysanne had.
First, they played dress up with her gowns, then they ate all her honey cakes at breakfast and then finally got her father’s attention to themselves, as Daemon focused more on the twins, supporting then through their grief. 
Then, Rhaenyra came and married her father. 
Alysanne liked Rhaenyra though. She let the girl use her earrings and necklaces, and even gifted her some dresses from her younger years. But what Alysanne liked the most about her new stepmother was the fact that she was set to be next Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, making Alysanne feel like she could just touch the Iron Throne
As a result of being raised in the Red Keep until moving to Pentos, Alysanne quickly learned the power of that seat. 
Even if she didn’t understand how Viserys got there, as an ant and him had the same skills to be king, every time he passed by her in the halls, she could not divert her eyes from the shining crown on top of his balding head. Suddenly her dreams were filled with images of her sitting in the Iron Trone, wearing long bright dresses and matching jewels. 
-
Alysanne and her family had just come back from the capital, landing victoriously in Dragonstone after securing Lucerys’ inheritance of Driftmark.
However, Alysanne couldn’t be madder. It had been announced to everyone the official betrothal of Lucerys and Rhaena, and Jacaerys and Baela.
How could her father and stepmother do this to her? She was the first Daemon’s daughter to become of age to wed, and they had just putted her aside, betrothing her younger sister to the future king of the Seven Kingdoms. 
Jacaerys and Alysanne weren’t very close, as the two-year age gap between them didn’t align their interests with each other. It was a small difference of age, but Jace was a typically childish boy, which contrasted with the more mature personally of the girl.
Of all her siblings, she preferred the younger ones, Joffrey and little Aegon and Viserys. 
Their small age made it easier to shape their small minds into Alysanne’s likings. The girl quickly became their favourite sister as she would be the one that spent more time with them, playing, reading, and teaching them everything that she valued. Joffrey became so attached to the girl’s presence in his daily activities, that sometimes he would cry in his bed for her, and as a good sister, Alysanne would leave her chambers and put the boy to sleep with kisses on the forehead and loving lullabies.
-
Daemon had called Alysanne into his study , noticing the annoyed expression that hadn’t left his daughter’s face the whole trip to Dragonstone.  
“What’s wrong with you? You are acting different since last night.” Daemon asked looking directly into Alysanne’s eyes.
Alysanne wondered if she should tell her father what she was thinking exactly. Daemon liked honesty but she wasn’t sure if honesty was the right path to follow in this conversation.
“Why are Baela and Rhaena getting married before me?” Not exactly the centre of the matter that was bothering her, but it was close. 
Daemon laughed, not believing his daughter’s bad mood was caused by her sisters betrothals.
“Do you want a wedding for yourself, daughter? I didn’t know you were so eager to be attached to a man and to be popping out heirs.” Alysanne only rolled her eyes, not having the patience to her father’s typical comments. “I don’t understand your little tantrum Alysanne, if anything you should be thankful you don’t have to marry yet. But if you really are that desperate to get wed, Cregan Stark’s wife just passed away. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind a Targaryen beauty like you being given to him.”
Alysanne immediately laughed in her father’s face, letting the anger that was slowing boiling beneath her skin finally snap.
“No!” She yelled, slamming her hands down on the wodden desk that stood in the middle of the room.
“No?” Daemon repeated, not expecting her outburst.
“How is that fair? Baela gets to be queen, and I get send away to freeze in the North?” Her loud voice echoed through the chambers, as Alysanne couldn’t believe her father’s suggestion.”I’m the oldest girl! I’m your oldest daughter, I should be the one getting my ass cozy in the throne! Not Baela!” She screamed and pointed her indicator finger to her father in an accusing manner. 
Daemon was shocked but without hesitation jumped in defence of his other daugther.
“You’re not going to speak about Baela like that again! Do you hear me Alysanne?!” Daemon’s shook her shoulders, letting his temper take the best of him.
Alysanne felt her eyes water and her throat itch, as she tried to contain the sobs she was holding back. Her father had never screamed at her, and not once he had directed his anger towards her like that.
The feeling of injustice settled once again on Alysanne’s chest, hurting like the sobs in her throat. 
“You’re going to inherit Runestone, isn’t that great already?” Daemon asked rhetorically and left the room they had entered, slamming the door on his way making Alysanne shudder. 
“Why have only Runestone when you can have all the Seven Kingdoms…” She whispered to the empty office as the tears finally fell from her eyes. 
Alysanne had one goal: be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. And to accomplish that goal, she traced a plan that involved betraying her half-sister and her father. 
It would hurt, because she loved her father very much, but lately Daemon had been so distant from Alysanne and so close to Baela, that she didn’t feel that terrible doing it. 
-
Jacaerys was sitting in the beach of Dragonstone playing with little Viserys in the sand. Alysanne got closer and started an innocent conversation.
“Hello Jace.” She smiled gracefully at him. 
“Hi Aly.” He returned the jest, turning his attention to young boy next to him as he tried to stand to the sight of Alysanne.
“Hello to you too my love.” Viserys immediately put his little chubby arms in the air, begging for his sister to pick him up, showing his small teeth in a smile.
Alysanne bended over to pick up the babe, making sure she aligned the low neckline of her dress with Jacaerys’ eyesight. 
She turned to the older boy, now with the younger one on her right hip, and notice his red cheeks and the bobbing of his throat.
“How are you feeling brother?” Alysanne asked.
“A-, what-… what do you mean?” He was nervous. Like she had caught him doing something bad.
“About the betrothal, Jace. How are you feeling now that you are about the be a married man?”
“I’m content Aly, Baela is a kind and nice girl. It could be a lot worse.“ 
Alysanne knew he was being honest. Baela and Jacaerys were really good friends, and considering the Westerosi history in arranged marriages, she agreed that he definitely could have gotten worse.
“Do you think she will make a fine Queen?” She questioned him while sitting on the sand next to him, putting Viserys in her lap.
“With Daemon and my mother educating her, I don’t see how she could ever do wrong.” 
Alysanne started playing innocently with a curl on the side of Jacaerys' head, twirling it on her fingers. She pretended to not notice the chill on his neck and moved her hand to massage the curls on the top of his hair. 
“I agree with you brother, Baela would be a nice Queen. But would she be a nice Queen to you?” 
“I don’t understand Aly.” Jacaerys was getting flustered, getting distracted from the conversation as the girl's hands played so smoothly with his hair and her breasts were sitting so prettily in a pink dress. 
“A Queen should not only serve the realm, but should also serve her husband, the King. You know that right?” From his expression, it was clear that Jacaerys still wasn’t getting Alysanne’s point. “The marital bed is how Queens serve their Kings, brother. By giving them pleasure.” Alysanne smirked seeing Jacaerys’ blushed cheeks, laughing lightly when he avoided looking at her eyes. 
-
It was the middle of the night, and the castle was sleeping peacefully, except for Alysanne, who was just leaving her chambers, wearing nothing but her thin nightgown. Tiptoeing carefully on the stone floors to not alert any guards, she made her way to a room she had been very few times. 
Opening and closing the door quietly, she let her eyes wander through the dark chambers, stopping on the big bed and on the dark tuff of hair resting on the pillows. Jacaerys was sleeping peacefully, completely unaware of his sister’s presence in his room.
Alysanne made her way to the bed, seating behind Jacaerys’ back, leaning carefully in his ear. 
“Jace…” She whispered while letting her index finger wander through his neck. 
The boy started to wake up, opening his eyes slowly trying to adjust to the lack of light. 
“Alysanne?” He interrogated turning his body to face her. 
“I think I saw a spider in my room. Can I sleep with you tonight Jace?” Alysanne pouted, batting her eyelashes the best she could, but the doubt in Jacaerys’ eyes was still visible.
“Aly, I don’t think it’s appropriate. If somebody catches you, we might get in trouble.” 
As much as his words were denying her, Alysanne noticed how his eyes went down to her nipples, that had perked due to coldness of the space, and were now very visible through her white nightgown. 
“Please Jace.” She pleaded, putting her hands his shoulders. “The spider was very big, and you know how scared I am of bugs.” 
“Fine, but you have to leave before the morning comes.” 
“Thank you Jace, you the best brother.” Alysanne kissed his cheek, making her breasts collide with his chest, and even in the dark atmosphere of the room, she could very much recognize his blushing look. 
Alysanne got under the covers, making herself comfortable on the second pillow of the bed. At first, she gave Jacaerys some distance, but as the minutes passed, she slowly began to move herself close to the boy. She was facing him, observing his closed eyes, and almost laughed at his failed attempt to pretend to sleep. 
Alysanne once again, let her fingers wander through his chest, following the patterns of his garment. 
“Aly…go to sleep” Jacaerys mumbled with his eyes still closed.
“I’m trying Jacey…” 
Alysanne lifted her right foot, making a gentle path up and down in his leg, not going up above the knee. 
Jacaerys stopped her foot from continuing to move, holding it tightly with his hand. 
“What are you doing Alysanne?” He said as he finally opened his eyes, giving her a serious look.
“I’m just caressing my brother. I like to make you feel good.” She muttered, now rubbing his leg with the foot that wasn’t trapped in his hand. 
Jacaerys closed his eyes once again, but this time doing it as mechanism to calm himself. Alysanne moved her eyes down the covers, espying the bulge on the boy’s breeches. She bitted her lip and drawn her face close to his, letting their noses touch slightly.
Alysanne could feel his warm but shaky breath, also smelling the scent of lavender in his hair.
“Jace, let me make you feel good tonight…” Jacaerys whole body got chills, as the girl whispered and started to kiss his neck, making a trail to his jaw. 
“Aly-, I- “He hummed, moving his hand from her foot, tightening his grip on her ankle.” I’m betrothed do Baela, and I can’t let yourself be ruined for your future husband.” 
“I appreciate your concern for my reputation brother, but I’m not a maiden anymore.” 
Alysanne didn’t let Jacaerys make any questions, biting his neck roughly which led to a loud grunt echoing through the room. 
“Carefully Jacey, you don’t mommy Rhaenyra to catch us don’t you? Or worse, my father and my sister. Can you imagine?” She said licking the spot behind his ear. 
Jacaerys just shook his head and surrendered to whatever Alysanne planned to do with him. 
Alysanne switched positions, straddling him with her legs, seating right on top of his erect cock. Jacaerys moaned and the girl took his hands putting them across her hips.
“Do you want to see me bare brother? Do you wish to see and touch my soft skin?” 
“Yes, Aly…yes.” His hands tensed around her hips, and Alysanne moved them again, letting them rest against her rear. Jacaerys immediately groaned, hardening his grip, possibly leaving bruises on her skin.
Alysanne rubbed herself against Jacaerys’ bulge, and because her only piece of clothing was a nightgown, the only thing separating them was his breeches, causing both to moan at the contact. 
The room was getting hotter, with the heavy breathing and sweat that started to glisten in their bodies warming up the atmosphere.
Jacaerys’ eyes were close, and his head empty of thoughts, the mere feeling of his stepsister’s cunt making him dumb.
Alysanne´s hands moved to the straps of her nightgown, pushing them down just enough to show her tits.
“Jacey, open your eyes my love.” She whispered in his ear and the boy followed her request, coming to immediate disbelief, not expecting Alysanne’s bust to be right in front his face.
“Can I?” He asked nervously, not having the courage to express in full words what he wanted to say exactly.
The girl nodded, and carefully, Jace moved his hands touching Alysanne’s tits like they were a fragile piece of glass. She chuckled teasingly as his index fingers made round movements around her nipples.
“You can go harder you know? I’m not a doll.”
Jacaerys, hearing her words, gripped both of her breasts roughly, and as a moan left his stepsister’s mouth, he got even harder, felling like the fabric of his breeches was about to rip.
Alysanne grabbed his hair, pushing his head close to her chest. “Suck them brother.”
He widened his eyes, taking some seconds to fully process her words, and Alysanne, with her lack of patience, pulled his hair harder with her fingers, moving his head forcefully in the direction her tits.
If Jacaerys got uncomfortable with the sudden lack of delicacy of his stepsister, he didn’t show it, as he immediately opened his mouth and sucked on Alysanne’s left breast like a hungry babe.
“Fuck…You are so good Jace. Can´t believe I only discovered you now.” The Targaryen girl opened her mouth in silent moans, never once stopping her hips from moving against her stepbrother’s lap.
Jacaerys felt like his cock was going to explode. Never once in his life he had been this hard.
He had noticed Alysanne’s looks before, always having to look away when the siblings would go for a swim in the beach of Dragonstone, and her shift would stick to her body, giving him a perfect view of her bottom and chest. He was still in disbelief, but the feeling of guilt or treason had vanished from his head since he felt her bare cunt against him.
Alysanne moved Jace’s head again, withdrawing his mouth from her breast, making a thin thread of spit connect to her nipple. His eyebrows raised in a frown, as he didn’t like that he got stopped, until the girl carefully raised her hips, and slowly started to unlace his breaches.
“Are you ready brother?” She questioned and the boy nodded without hesitation, eager to finally feel her pussy fully around him.
Alysanne was pleasantly surprised upon the sight of her stepbrother’s cock. With only a handful of sexual experiences with one of the knights of the Dragonstone, Jacaerys’ manhood was big in length and width. Alysanne debuted her hand could fully close around it.
Before pushing her hips down again, the girl took her nightgown off, throwing it to some corner of the room.
Her cunt was glistening with wetness, making Jacaerys grunt at the sight.
Alysanne pushed one finger inside of her, whining at the feeling, only to pull it out and slowly press her wet and shiny digit to Jace’s lips.
The boy didn’t expect this action, but quickly let the surprise get away and instead allowed the curiosity to take hold of him. Opening his mouth carefully, he licked the wet substance that was touching his lips, being interrupted as Alysanne shoved her wet finger inside in mouth. Just like he did with her nipple, Jacaerys sucked like his life depended on it, loving the sweet taste of his stepsister in his mouth. It was sweater than any dessert he had ever tasted, and more addicting than any wine in the Seven Kingdoms.
The Targaryen girl chuckled amused with this moment, proceeding to leave delicate kisses on his neck.
Taking her finger of Jacaerys’ mouth, Alysanne connected her gaze with his, as she aligned his cock with her cunt, finally sinking down.
Both moaned loudly at the sensation. Alysanne felt full to a point of pain, and Jacaerys felt a tight and warm embrace in his manhood, that it was close enough to make him come.
“Fuck Jacey.” Alysanne pulled their lips together in a lustful and passionate kiss. It was hungry and desperate, both chasing each other’s tongue, not worrying about syncing the movements.
Alysanne started to move her hips, first at a slow pace, wanting to adjust to her stepbrother large cock, but Jacaerys was already impatient and wanted more. Groaning, he took hold of her hips, and pressed her down more on him. Alysanne felt like she could sob from pleasure, and moved her hips faster, making herself and Jace see stars.
“Aly you feel so good.” He moaned breathy, pressing small kisses on her tits.
The bed moved against the stone wall, making a noise that echoed through the room, but not high enough that could silence their sounds of pleasure.
Alysanne, feeling her leg muscles starting to get tired, slowed down a little, and Jace, sensing that, began to move his own hips upwards, thrusting into Alysanne´s pussy without mercy.
The girl’s eyes watered as his cock touched that spot, forcing her to bite into Jacaerys’ shoulder to prevent the scream that was about to leave her mouth from waking their family up.
They exchange gazes, and Jacaerys thought he was seeing an angle, upon the sight of Alysanne´s face. Her silver long hair was a mess, and her cheeks were flustered and red, but what really mesmerised him were her teary violet eyes and swollen lips. If he was meant to go to one of the seven heavens, he was sure they would never be more beautiful than this view.
Seeing his deep stare, Alysanne smiled softly and pressed a small kiss on Jacaerys’ lips.
“I’m close Aly.” He said making a low sound that rattled in his throat.
“Come inside me Jacey. Please brother.” She begged and the boy was quick to nod in agreement, but Alysanne could still see the hesitation in his eyes. She pushed Jace against the mattress, taking command of the pace again, and with all her strength, she rode Jace like the dragonrider she was.
“Gods...” He whispered, one hand on her back and the other on her ass, squeezing it tightly.
Fire burned in Alysanne’s belly, as her climax was also approaching. She moved her hand down, reaching for her cunt and toyed with her clit, wanting to reach the orgasm together with Jace.
Alysanne pressed her forehead with his, the sweat sticking their hair together, and Jacaerys’ brown eyes widen with adoration.
He felt like this was meant to be, Alysanne’s deep violet eyes looking into his and his hands worshiping every piece of her skin. He wasn´t sure if should be thanking the gods for her existence, as in the moment she was a goddess herself.
“Come on brother, let me give you a sweet babe with dark hair.” As this sentence left Alysanne´s mouth, Jacaerys’ was unable to hold it anymore and with a trembling heart, he lifted his large palm, and slapped the girl’s ass forcefully, immediately leaving a red bruise. Alysanne gasped, and finally, together, both reached their release. Alysanne clung to him, coming with a loud cry, and Jacaerys buried his face on her neck, muffling a deep moan into her skin.
Alysanne felt the warm release of her stepbrother filling her, and smiled, allowing her hips to continue moving, wanting to prolong both of their pleasure.
“Fuck...” Jace’s tired voice spoke as he carefully withdrawn her from his lap.
Alysanne moved to his side, putting her head in his chest and looked directly into his eyes.
“Did you enjoy it?” She questioned teasingly.
“What do you think?” The boy laughed and pressed a light kiss to her forehead.
The silence that now filled the room was an extreme contrast to the loud atmosphere that was bursting moments before.
Alysanne got what she wanted, and the happiness of being able to accomplish her goal, mixed with the pleasure she had felt, had brought her to a state of bliss.
Jacaerys on the other hand, was now contemplating his future. If his betrothal to Baela wasn´t important some minutes ago, now it was a screaming thought in his head.
When the betrothal was announced, he never for once got sad about it, with Baela being a kind and beautiful girl. But now, after having Alysanne in his arms, he knew that entire years of a marriage with Baela wouldn’t bring him the happiness he felt in a single night with Alysanne.
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princesssszzzz · 3 months ago
Text
Silver Crimson
Word Count: 2.8k
Pairing: Rhaemond
Summary: Rhaena spends her days in King's Landing helping the smallfolk, catching the attention of Aemond after Daeron spends a day with her.
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Read on A03
The streets buzzed with the mundane hum of daily life. From the crowded Flea Bottom markets to the narrow alleys where beggars clutched their rags, the King’s Landing pulse thrummed steadily. Among the smallfolk, the young Princess moved gracefully, smiling when one of the people called out to her ‘Darling of the City!’ Her presence was an anomaly for her first couple of visits, but now they saw it as a comfort.  
Rhaena Targaryen, with her slender figure draped in crimson and black walked with an ease that drew eyes and smiles wherever she went. Her long, silver locs cascaded loosely down her back, catching the late morning sunlight in a way that made them seem almost ethereal. 
 After her lessons she had spent much of her time at the orphanage today, kneeling beside the children. She listened intently as they told her of their dreams, dreams that soared high above the reality that Westeros gave them. Rhaena’s heart ached for them, but she did not pity them. Instead, she admired their resilience and in return they adored her. With every visit, she brought food, clothing, and books. 
Today was no different and as she handed a small girl a loaf of bread, a shadow fell across her. She looked up to see Daeron standing behind her, smiling down at her. His golden hair caught the light in the same manner as her locs, and his purple eyes still sparkled with the innocence of youth. He was a kind soul, gentle and courteous, and his presence always brought a sense of warmth in the chaos of King’s Landing. 
“Princess,” Daeron greeted her, bowing his head slightly. “I wondered where you had gone off to. The Keep felt rather empty without you.” 
Rhaena smiled, her cheeks flushing lightly. “I've been visiting here often. The children look forward to our visits.” 
“Our visits?” Daeron teased, his boyish grin widening. “Then I shall have to accompany you.” 
Rhaena gave him a slight smile. “I think they would like that, my Prince.” 
As they walked through the streets together, Rhaena was keenly aware of the looks they received. Daeron, despite his youth, was already gaining a reputation for his charm and easy smile. He had been mostly raised away from there, and though still a boy in many ways, he had the demeanor of the knights in the stories Rhaena often read. He was gallant and thoughtful, always eager to help, and he never missed an opportunity to make Rhaena laugh. 
Daeron asking about her day, her studies, and how she was settling into life at King’s Landing. She answered with sincerity, her words painting a picture of contentment, though he knew there was a hint of something else in her tone when she spoke of her father. Daemon, though powerful and respected as the Commander of the City Watch, had little interest in his daughter. His mind was often preoccupied with matters of the politics of the realm, leaving Rhaena to fend for herself when it came to familial affection now that she was away from her mother. 
“Have you spoken with your father today?” Daeron asked, his voice filled with concern. 
Rhaena shook her head, her smile dimming . “Not really. He’s often busy.” 
Daeron placed a hand on her arm, his touch light but reassuring. “He will come around, Rhaena. You are his daughter, after all. No father can remain distant forever. You're his only child here.” 
She appreciated his optimism, though she wasn’t as certain. She quickly turned away, focusing on the task at hand. There were still people to feed, and she could not afford to be distracted. 
 Daeron joined her in handing out bread and cheese, his hands moving with a practiced ease that made the smallfolk whisper among themselves. Here was a prince who did not shy away from them, who did not look down on them from the lofty heights of the Red Keep. Rhaena couldn’t stop thinking about how much different he was from her father, and how much she’d liked that about him. 
The day drew to a close, the sun began its descent, and Rhaena knew it was time to return. She thanked Daeron for his company and with a lingering smile, he returned to the Keep leaving her to walk the familiar path back to her chambers. 
She had not expected to see her father when she entered the hall but there he was, his presence commanding as always. Daemon Targaryen, with his chiseled features and a face hardened by years of battle and bitterness, stood speaking with a gold cloak. His face looked cold and calculating as he discussed some matter of security with his underling. 
Rhaena hesitated at the threshold, not wanting to interrupt but Daemon’s gaze flicked towards her annd caught her in its intensity. 
“Rhaena,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “You’ve been out all day.” 
“Yes, father,” she replied, stepping forward, her hands clasped before her. “I was at the orphanage. The children there.” 
Daemon’s expression did not soften, but neither did it harden further. He was the one who mentioned to her and Baela the importance of the smallfolk trusting them. “I can’t keep up with you if your always outside of the Red Keep.” 
Rhaena swallowed, resisting the urge to point out that he'd hardly noticed her absence anyway. She knew the gold cloak had been the one reporting on her. “I like helping them father.” 
Daemon dismissed the man with a curt nod, then turned his full attention to his daughter. “Your to learn the ways of the court, not to cavort with peasants.” 
His words stung, but Rhaena held her ground. “Mother sent me here to be with you, father. But you are often busy, and I—” 
“And you what?” Daemon interrupted, his tone sharp. 
“I wish to make myself useful,” she finished quietly. “If not here, then with those who need me.” 
For a moment, silence hung between them, heavy and fraught with years of her unspoken tensiogreivances. Daemon’s gaze bore into her, as if he were searching for something in her face, some sign of weakness or rebellion. But Rhaena did'nt waver, meeting his stare with quiet determination. 
Finally, Daemon sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Your sister must be rubbing off on you.” 
Rhaena wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or a criticism, but she chose to take it as the former. “I'm sure her and mother misses you,” she said softly. 
Daemon’s expression shifted slightly, regret passing through his eyes before it was gone.  “The world is not as kind as you are, Rhaena. Remember that.” 
“I will,” she promised with a nod. 
Daemon nodded, dismissing her with a wave of his hand as he turned away, his thoughts already elsewhere. Rhaena watched him go, feeling  sadness and resignation settling in her chest. It was clear that her father cared for her, in his own odd way. It was also clear that his heart was not in King’s Landing. His heart was on the battlefield. 
The next day dawned with a crispness in the air that heralded the coming of autumn. Rhaena found herself wandering around, suddenly drawn by the sounds of clashing steel and the shouts of men honing their skills. She had always been fascinated by the art of combat, though she never participated. Watching was another matter entirely. 
As she approached the noise, she saw him.  Aemond was a figure of stark contrasts. His silver hair was swinging around, emphasizing the hard lines of his face and the proud set of his mouth. His singular eye was focused intently on Ser Cole, while the black leather patch served as a constant reminder of the price he had paid for his ambitions and fight with his nephews. 
Aemond moved with a grace that belied his size, his sword an extension of his arm as he parried and struck with precision. There was an elegance to his movements, a fluidity that Rhaena could'nt help but admire. She watched him in silence with her presence unnoticed until the bout ended, and Aemond’s gaze swept the area until it landed on her. 
His expression softened slightly and he strode towards her, sheathing his sword as he did. “Rhaena,” he greeted, his voice low. “What brings you here?” 
Rhaena tried to give a disarming smile, though there was a hint of wariness in her demeanor. “I enjoyed watching the training. It looks like dancing, the way you move.” 
Aemond raised an eyebrow, clearly pleased by the compliment. “Dancing? I’ve never heard swordplay described in such a way.” 
Rhaena’s cheeks colored slightly. “Perhaps not dancing, then. But impressive, certainly.” 
Aemond inclined his head, acknowledging her words. “I didn’t expect to see you here, though. You spend much of your time inside and with the smallfolk now, do you not?” 
Rhaena nodded. “I do. They are kind people, and they need all the help they can get.” 
Aemond’s expression grew pensive, his eye narrowing slightly. “I saw you with my brother. He often accompanies you, does he not?” 
There was annoydance in his tone that made Rhaena pause, though she couldn’t quite place it. “He did once. Daeron is kind. He cares about the smallfolk as much as I do.” 
Aemond’s lips twisted into a slight smirk, though it did not reach his eye. “Yes, Daeron is kind. Almost to a fault.” 
Rhaena frowned, “What do you mean?” 
Aemond shook his head, the smirk fading into something more contemplative. “Only that my brother is young and lacks experience in the real world. He's a child.” 
“He’s a good man,” Rhaena said, her tone carrying a note of defense. 
Aemond’s expression was unreadable. “Hmmm...perhaps.” 
Rhaena wanted to roll her eyes at him but decided not to, instead opting to smile gently, trying to ease the tension she felt building between them. “The world is as simple or as complicated as we make it. It’s better not to carry resentment Aemond.” 
He let his stare linger on her, his eye searching her face for something she wasn’t sure he would find. Finally he nodded, though his expression remained serious. “We’ll see if the world proves you right, Rhaena.” 
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving her to ponder his words as the cool breeze tugged at her locs. She watched him go, her mind a swirl of thoughts and questions. She’d been here for months, but Aemond was still a mystery to her. One she wasn’t sure she would ever fully unravel.  
The day passed quickly, and by the time the sun was dipping low in the sky, Rhaena found herself once more among the smallfolk. The streets were quieter now, the bustling energy of the day giving way to the calm of evening. She handed out the last of the bread she had brought, her thoughts still lingering on Aemond and the strange conversation they had shared. 
It wasn’t until she was preparing to leave that she saw him again. He appeared suddenly, as if out of the shadows. Rhaena looked up, startled to see him there and his expression as unreadable as ever. 
“Aemond,” she greeted him, her voice tinged with surprise. “What are you doing down here?” 
He shrugged, his gaze flicking over the small crowd that had gathered around her. “I thought I would find you here.” 
Rhaena smiled, though there was a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. “I didn’t think you were one for visiting the smallfolk.” 
Aemond’s mouth twitched into a slight smirk. “I’m not, usually. But you seem to think there is merit in it, so I thought I would see for myself.” 
Rhaena wasn’t sure what to make of that. There was something in his tone, something almost kind, that she had not expected. But before she could respond, she noticed the way the smallfolk were eyeing him, their expressions wary and uncertain. 
Aemond seemed to notice it too, and his smirk faded into a look of mild irritation. “They’re afraid of me,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. 
“They’re not used to seeing you here,” Rhaena explained gently. “But that doesn’t mean they don’t appreciate your presence.” 
Aemond scoffed lightly, though there was no real malice in the sound. “I’m not here for their appreciation.” 
Rhaena eyed him. “Then why are you here?” 
Aemond met her gaze, his expression inscrutable. “Perhaps I’m here for you.” 
The words hung between them, heavy with meaning that neither of them fully grasped. Rhaena felt her heart skip a beat, her mind scrambling to process what he had just said. Before she could respond, Aemond turned to the guards who had accompanied her, his voice curt as he dismissed them. 
“Leave us,” he ordered, his tone brooking no argument. 
The guards hesitated, their eyes darting between Aemond and Rhaena. “But, my Prince—” 
“Go,” Aemond repeated, his patience clearly wearing thin. 
Reluctantly, the guards obeyed, leaving Rhaena and Aemond standing alone in the fading light. Rhaena watched them go, her heart beating a little faster. It was getting late, and the streets of King’s Landing were not safe at night. Her father had warned her of that many times, and she knew he would be out tonight, hunting down criminals and ensuring the city’s “safety”. 
“Aemond,” she began, her voice tinged with concern. “It’s the hour of the bat. My father will be out, and if he sees us…” Rhaena let her words carry off. 
Aemond’s expression shifted into one of amusement, a glint of mischief in his eye. “Let him see us. I’ve nothing to hide.” 
Rhaena frowned slightly, her unease growing at the disappearing household guards that came with them from Dragonstone. “We should go back. He doesn't exactly appreciate me being down here. And he doesn’t trust your family.” 
Aemond’s smirk returned, sharper this time. “He doesn’t trust anyone, Rhaena. Least of all me. But that’s his problem, not yours.” 
There was a confidence in his tone that both reassured and unnerved her. Rhaena bit her lip, unsure of what to say. She didn’t want to cause trouble, but at the same time, there was something thrilling about the way Aemond looked at her. 
He offered her his arm, his expression softening slightly. “Come. You don’t need guards. Let me walk you.”  
Rhaena hesitated, her mind warring with itself. But in the end, she placed her hand on his arm, allowing him to lead her through the cobblestone streets. As they walked, the city around them seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the two of them, bound together by the strange, unspoken connection that had suddenly formed between them. 
Aemond did not speak much as they made their way toward the Keep, but Rhaena could feel the weight of his presence beside her, a comforting and yet unsettling sensation all at once. 
When they finally reached the gates of the Keep, Aemond paused, turning to face her. His expression was serious, his eye searching hers as if he were looking for something only she could give him. 
"Princess," he said quietly, he kept his voice low. Aemond took a step closer, the distance between them shrinking until she could feel the warmth radiating from his body. His gaze flickered down to her lips, and for a brief moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Before she could fully comprehend what was happening, he leaned in, capturing her lips in a tender and commanding kiss. 
Rhaena’s eyes fluttered shut as she melted into him, her hands instinctively reaching up to grasp his shoulders. The sensation was overwhelming, a rush of heat and electricity that left her breathless. Aemond’s hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against her skin as he deepened the kiss, drawing her closer as if he feared she might slip away. 
For a few precious moments, there was nothing but the two of them, lost in the intensity of the kiss.  
When Aemond finally pulled back, his breath mingled with hers and Rhaena’s heart was pounding in her chest. He looked down at her, his eye dark with an emotion she couldn’t quite place, and for once the smugness that so often marked his features was absent, replaced by something far more genuine. 
"Goodnight, Rhaena," he whispered, his voice rougher than before, as if the kiss had shaken him as much as it had her. 
Rhaena found herself unable to speak with her lips still tingling from the kiss. She managed a nod, her thoughts jumbled. Without another word, Aemond released her and turned away, disappearing into the shadows of the Keep. 
As Rhaena made her inside her chambers, her steps were light and unsteady. She couldn’t help but replay the kiss in her mind, over and over. She had no idea what it meant or where it would lead, but she knew one thing for certain. Nothing would be the same after tonight.  
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daenerysstormreborn · 2 months ago
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Actresses who should play Targaryens:
LADY GAGA and I am so serious about her as Shiera
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TILDA SWINTON: Elaena, anyone? Or actually even Visenya. I know everyone loves making gifs with that one woman from Vikings but Visenya is said to be austere. Elaena is a great choice too because I think Tilda really could embody “more beautiful at 70 than at 17”
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Mia Goth: she’s got that otherworldly look. Could be Daella or Deana the Defiant
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Hunter Schaefer: she has a very striking facial structure and with her smile that’s a bit angled up to one side, I think she’d be a great Alyssa
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Gemma Ward: EXTREMELY ethereal. I’d pick her for Daenys, Rhaenys the conquerer, Naerys, or even Dany
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Julia Garner: perhaps Rhaena the black bride or Deena the defiant?
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Abbey Lee Kershaw: perhaps Saera as an adult? She has such striking features and a real intensity to her
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Bella Heathcote: Rhaena daughter of Aegon III, perhaps? Could also do Naerys or Dany
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unusual-raccoon · 11 months ago
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Jaceluke where Jace has been in love with Luke all his life, one day he decides to be brave and confess his feelings but Luke rejects him because he never saw Jace that way and he is also engaged to Rhaena. Jace accepts it, but he's heartbroken so he asks his mother's permission to travel through the Seven Kingdoms and then he leaves for a year. When he returns everyone is talking about Prince Jace and his ✨️glow up✨️ and Luke starts to get jealous, especially when he hears his brother talking about *redacted*. Luke begins to realize that he might have feelings for his brother and is ready to talk to Jace and give him a chance after dinner when Jace announces in front of the entire family that he and *redacted* are getting married. Lucerys is in shock and feels like he was stabbed, now he knows he loves Jace too but it's late. It's too late now
(sorry I started the year with sad vibes 😬)
Anon, this ask has been eating my brain for daysss.
Warnings; yearning, pining, rejection, denial of feelings (from both parties), Targaryen blood calling, no happy ending
anon, i hope this is sad enough, ficlet is under the cut 🫶
I don't love you that way, Jace.
Oh, how the words had eaten at him. Every night since the night they had left his lips. Sleep never came without the memory of his brother's resulting flinch, like a beaten hound.
His brother had poured his heart out to him, red and raw. And Lucerys had denied him with a raised chin, unable to even meet his brother's eyes. Duty had always been Jacaerys' concern, while passion had been Luke's. But in that moment, as Luke held his back straight and Jace quietly tried to catch his breath, they wore one another's skin - torn between duty and love.
Jace had left after that, free to tour their mother's kingdom atop Vermax with the Queen's permission.
A tour that had lasted the better part of a year.
A tour that would be at an end before the week was through if the whispering from the courts and the kitchens and every corner of the Keep was to be believed. The Crown Prince of the Realm would soon return home.
A part of his heart yearned. Spurning his brother in his childish zeal to be their mother's perfect son, as Jacaerys was, had left a void in his heart. An unfillable chasm that luncheons in the gardens with his betrothed, nor time upon dragonback with his younger brothers could not cure.
He was inconsolable.
Utterly bereft.
He made trips to the dragonpit each day, hoping and praying in equal parts that his brother might return home to him, that he might mend the rift between them.
He and Rhaena were in the dragonpit, Morning was much too small to ride still, only a year old. But she was magnificent to look at.
"Pink and blue," She tells him, petting a pale frill along the hatchling's slender neck.
"Pardon?" Lucerys asks, too preoccupied with staring at the sky.
"The colors we should have at our wedding," She says, so airily, so ethereal. Something about it pulls him down from the skies, back to reality.
She shrugs, "Black and Red will go to Jace and Baela, obviously," Something about it cut Lucerys deeply, "I think our wedding should be different."
"Blue, because you'll be the Lord of the Tides, after grandfather," She explains, "Pink for Morning," She smiles fondly at the hatchling perched upon her shoulder, rubbing sprouting little onyx horns along Rhaena's cheek, "and pearl," she decides with a widening smile as she stares deep into the dragonpit and eyes of molten gold stare back.
"For Arrax?" Lucerys surmises.
Rhaena nods happily, almost wistful.
"It sounds beautiful," Lucerys says and he meant it, though, somehow, he could not picture himself a lord in blue...
Pink, blue, white - those were not his colors...
He could not picture himself by Rhaena's side, not truly, not as he hoped he could but a year ago, when he was trying to be the picturesque, dutiful betrothed at the cost of his brother, at the cost of-
"Jace?"
"What?" Lucerys stammered.
"There, look," Rhaena gestured, pointing to a dragon approaching. Vermax glowed in shades of jade and emerald with vibrant bronze and orange wing membranes. He was gorgeous and grinning.
The smallfolk delighted at their more colorful dragons, like Morning, Arrax, and Ceraxes, but to Luke, there was nothing more majestic than his brother's seemingly mundane green dragon.
"We should tell the Queen. She'll be delighted by his return."
He had waited a year for this moment.
"I- yes, of course."
. . .
He could hear the serving girls gushing about how handsome Jacaerys was. The household guard made mention of the strapping man his elder brother had grown into. Even members of mother's small council whispered about the worthy heir that had returned home.
When the doors to the throne room opened, Lucerys saw only a man...
He tilts his head, hoping he might see the brother he knows, his Jace. The man bears long dark curls that fall just short of his collar and dark eyes that gleam amethyst when he is close enough, and Mother's nose...
Mother seems herself restored. She smiles wider than he has seen in the past year. She is beaming.
"Welcome home, my son."
The man nods, "Thank you, your grace."
Their eyes meet but once in the throne room, and for a moment, the strapping man is humbled, and Lucerys sees the kicked hound once more.
And Lucerys' heart clenches.
His words haunt him still.
I don't love you that way, Jace.
Oh, but he did, he knew that now. He loved his brother so.
Only after the attending nobles bear witness to the return of the beloved Crown Prince, and just their family remains, that mother descends from her throne. Her long gown of embroidered black and red with sewn flames of gold drags against the winding stairs of her throne. She says nothing for a moment as her eldest son looms over her, then with a cry, she leaps into Jacaerys' arms. He holds her, laughing as Mother cries, her hands clinging to his broad back, her feet hanging above the ground where his arms have secured around her softened waist.
"Look at you," She murmurs, small white hands holding Jacaerys' handsome face. Jacaerys had always been so handsome. It had angered Lucerys when they were children. It angered him for other reasons as they had grown older, when that handsome face was what he yearned for, even when he knew he shouldn't. With mother's perfect aquiline nose, full lips, and a square jaw - he was every maiden's dream.
"A feast," mother said, brushing stray curls behind Jacaerys' ear, "we should have a feast to commemorate your return."
A feast would be perfect. A feast would take time to prepare. Time Lucerys needed.
. . .
"Brother!" Lucerys calls down the corridor.
Jacaerys' dark head turns, curls bouncing.
"Brother," he purrs in return.
His eyes do not flee like a beaten hound this time.
Chambermaid burns scarlet when she brushes past Jacaerys in the corridor, a bundle of linens in her arms and a meek 'begging your pardon, my prince' on her lips.
Lucerys' hands tense into fists at his sides briefly before his anger abates.
"Are you very busy...I-I was hoping we could talk."
His brother squints down at him, brow knitted in a way that makes him look like someone he shouldn't - like a knight from their youth.
"What about?"
About you, he thinks, about us.
"I-I fear I was unkind to you when last we spoke..."
His heart lurches into his throat.
A heavy hand lands on his shoulder.
It feels solid, tangible, warm - he never wants Jacaerys to stop touching him.
"Brother," Jacaerys sighs, "my journey has been long," Lucerys nods, "arduous, even - now that I've returned home I mean only to bathe, sleep, and eat. I can hardly remember when last I slept not on dragonback, let alone what words you spoke to me a year ago."
Now, it is Lucerys that flinches.
You told me you loved me, he longs to say, you told me you couldn't stomach another moment without me in your arms...
"Now," Jacaerys says, his smile charming and amiable, "I have matters, to attend to? I'll see you at supper."
He sees it then, peeking between corridors, the flash of white curls. Baela, he recognizes nauseously.
"Of course," Luke murmurs, his insides feel hulled - hollowed out with something curved and sharp.
Matters, Lucerys thinks in agonized realization as Jacaerys walks down the corridor.
Jacaerys would tend to tend to her as any dutiful husband would, they are not yet wed, but he would do it regardless because it is right, it is expected, it is proper.
I was born for you, Lucerys thinks spitefully, tears gathering in his eyes, you should be tending to me.
I don't love you that way, Jace.
Gods damn the fool he had been.
Gone was the brother with the open heart. Gone were the words Jacaerys had spoken only for him. It was much too late for matters of the year past.
They lived in different worlds now, he and his brother.
And Lucerys feared they might never meet again.
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wcrriorhearts · 6 months ago
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The laughter of children fills the entrance hall as the brothers file out of the castle and into the courtyard to go train at the beach, but Aegon lingers, staying behind as the other five head out. He knows his mother is in one of the sitting rooms, and so instead of following just yet, he steers towards the open door. With four brothers and a half sister who live here with him, it is not always easy to spend time alone with either one of his parents, but Aegon tries. There is no one in the world he loves more than his mother, so he has a tendency to stick to her side whenever he can. Stepping into the room, he finds it flooded with sunlight and it makes his mother look even more ethereal than she already does. Smiling, he walks over to her and kisses her cheek. "We are done with our lessons for today. The others have gone to the beach with Rhaena. Can I stay with you for a while?"
@halfyearsqueen liked for a starter from Aegon
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an-abyss-of-stars · 2 years ago
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She Whispered To Him In The Night - Part 3
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(previously known as - It's Visceral And It's Cruel: Possible Moment)
Summary: The seducing is working! Rhaena wants it, she's a little reluctant at first, a little worried that they shouldn't be doing this...but she absolutely wants what Aemond is giving her.
Warnings: SMUT! Smutty smut smut and some more angst, but mostly smut!
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Ao3 |
Tag list: @minim236 , @bohemiandreams99 , @neocil , @readsalot73 , @nettysnest (feel free to tell me if you want to be on the taglist or not)
✨If we're wondering about the name change, I've put the fic on Ao3 now! Feel free to show some love there! But yeah, that and the fact that this has just become it's own thing at this point, it needed a new name.✨
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P.S: I promised FILTH, and yes I partially delivered! I'm also a fucking liar because there will be 4 parts instead of 3! The actual dicking-down is um...it's a long oneee (pun not intended but also intended)...i had to split it! Enjoy Aemond FINALLY getting to eat out his girl tho! He was desperate so I let him have it.
---
Surely with his need to want and possess her...to own her. Beneath that carnal possession, if he could have her, he'd love her like no other could. He'd lavish her with everything at his disposal. Everything a woman as glorious as her deserved. 
But for the moment, he wouldn’t pass up teasing her. 
"So you think I'm beautiful," he smirked, that rakish expression gracing his features yet again. 
"I think you're fishing for compliments, my Prince. I think you know you're far too striking to be considered anything less," her pale lavender eyes glinted playfully, a soft smile spreading across her lips.
His heart was pounding rapidly, certainly he knew he wasn't a hideous creature. His mother was keen to remind him of just how handsome she thought he was nearly daily. Ladies at court may not have agreed, and whores were happy to say whatever handed them more coin. 
He couldn't help that his grisly scar and the loss of left eye left a more than wounded feeling when it came to his own self conscious feelings about his appearance. 
But Rhaena…she'd complimented him unprovoked. There'd be nothing for her to gain…other than this being her honest opinion of him.
And she thought he was… beautiful .
His ethereal dragon Princess thought him beautiful. 
He watched as she attempted to inch backyards on her bed, but he hooked his fingers around the hollow of her knees, pulling her back to him. 
"Just what do you expect me to relinquish to you tonight, my Prince?" she nearly giggled, gazing up at him. He couldn't stand how watching her lay on her back for him had made him so incredibly hard. The way her exposed breasts rose and lowered with each breath she took, "Aemond, I've already allowed you far more liberties than I should have." 
"If you wanted me to stop, you would’ve told me. As we both know how much you enjoy denying me things," he said smoothly, "but if you truly had disliked any of this, you wouldn't have moaned for me."
She grimaced only slightly, "Aemond," her voice had taken on a slight admonishing tone.
"I want all of you," he cut her off, "every inch of you,"
"Surely you cannot!" Rhaena laughed nervously, "Aemond, I know your grandfather intends for you to marry Floris Baratheon. He intends to form an alliance behind my Stepmother’s back. And should it happen, we both know I shall not play as your mistress,"
Aemond gritted his teeth, gripping her thighs, pulling her flush against him, "you think I'd choose some Baratheon wench over you. My grandfather's ambitions can die right here, I won't be his pawn in this. I want you as my bride not my fucking mistress ,"
Her eyes widened at his blatant admission, her lower lip caught between her teeth, "you want me that badly?" By now she'd pulled herself into a seating position, gazing up at him as he stood in front of her. 
His chest might've burst, the look in her eyes, her soft voice felt as if it were constricting him. Aemond gently held her chin and lowered himself down to her lips, she did not fight him, she swayed into his kiss. 
He’d spent nearly the majority of their encounter tonight practically begging her to marry him, but she still couldn’t seem to take his words for what they were. 
At least until now.
Aemond groaned against her, pulling back only slightly, "if you only knew how I saw you, you'd know how desperately-" his lips claimed hers again, he was losing control, if he didn't have her now, he wasn't sure how he'd ever survive.
He inhaled deeply, letting her intoxicating lavender scent wash over him, "Rhaena, this is meant to be. I've never wanted anyone else, and I know you feel it too. What must I do to prove it?"
She gazed into his eyes, something vulnerable and something more. Her hypnotic stare focusing in on his sapphire eye, he felt himself tense before her. Even as her soft hands caressed his scar with gentle care, "you'll secure a betrothal…without killing anyone?" 
"Surely it'd be easier if I killed a few people," he pouted lightly. 
"Aemond, that's not funny," she bit back a small smile, batting his chest.
"Fine. I won't kill anyone. I can easily secure a betrothal once I've had you, put a child in you," he grinned down at her. Whatever remark she had prepared, died on her tongue as she watched him lower himself down to his knees in front of her. 
Spreading her legs slowly, he heard her gasp but she did not stop him. He was finally going to see her, open and bared just for him. 
The view was certainly delectable.
Aemond gulped at the tantalizing sight, his lady was well and truly soaked. His pride might've swelled within him, for he knew he'd been the one who'd caused her to be so. His jaw clenched, fuck, he was certain he had never seen such a perfect cunt, he was desperate to taste her.
Rhaena's widened eyes watching him closely, her cheeks were flushed a burning pink.
She was anticipating his next move, but she should know he wouldn't let her squander this moment. 
He licked his lips and bit them closely, eyeing her intensely, his voice was slightly hoarse when he asked, "I wish to taste you, sweet Rhaena. May I?" 
Her plush lips parted, still seemingly stunned at the position she'd found herself in. With a gulp, she nodded for him, and he decided that would have to do, for he could wait no longer. 
Aemond gripped onto her thighs with a fervent need, spreading her legs further, opening her to him fully before he delved in. His tongue desperately lapped up her sweet slick with an eagerness he didn't know he had. 
She tasted far too good, he was sure most cunts never tasted this sweet. It was nearly overwhelming, the heady taste of her sent burning ripples throughout him.
Rhaena whimpered for him, falling back onto the bed, but he wanted more. 
He pulled her closer, let his tongue travel the length of her, suckling at her folds before fixating his attention on the apex of her sex. He'd barely even dragged his tongue along it, yet he drew even deeper moans from her. 
Yes, this is what he wanted. 
He wanted her to beg him, cling onto him for dear life, begging him just to let her cum. 
And he'd get it. He'd make his fantasy a reality yet again. 
Sucking and licking her little bundle of nerves with impeccable attention, as his fingers gently stroked her quivering opening. He felt her thighs threatened to squeeze against him, but he knew that to be a good thing. She was moaning his name, truly wanton and gods how he loved it.
Bringing his fingers up, gently stroking through her thatch of silver curls and then down to continue rubbing her little bundle. Her thighs only pressed tighter so he lifted his tongue off of her, "now now, my Lady, you'll have to behave if you want me to continue," his lips curled deviously.
But his Rhaena only whined desperately, her head falling back against her pillows, "Aemond, how could you be so cruel,"
"Mmm, I thought you liked that about me," he grinned, lowering his lips back to her quivering core. Sucking her leaking juices up, as if her essence was sustaining his life force. And truly in a way it was. But he wanted more, dragging his tongue along her as if he was partaking in the sweetest of treats, he slowly slid his tongue inside of her hot centre.
Causing her most wanton moan yet, he was in heaven, this he knew.
Her hands had abandoned grabbing her sheets and had now gripped into his long hair. The wincing pull only made his cock harder, along with her writhing and her moaning. He had to be careful not to release himself in his breeches.
All the while, he kept a rhythm, fucking her earnestly with only his tongue. She was so responsive to everything, the softest graze of his teeth made her scream even louder for him. Her legs fought against his restraining hand and strong arm, but he kept her grounded as he drew her closer to her peak.
His fingers digging deep enough into her thighs, he was sure he'd bruised her delicate brown skin. But he couldn't stop, he made sure the length of his tongue twirled and curled inside her. She was nearly sobbing for him, she was certainly begging for him. Oh she made him so hard without even trying.
"Mmm Aemond, please. I need...," she cried to him, her back was arching, her head rolled back amongst the pool of her silver locs. He knew what she needed, and he intended on giving it to her. There would be time to torture her with orgasms later, when he secured her hand.
But in this moment, she'd begged him so sweetly, how could he not acquiesce. In any case he wanted her to cum…needed her to cum on his tongue. 
Fucking his tongue into her harder, licking at her core with fervour and rubbing her clit with purpose. All in tandem making her a bucking mess. Her hips worked to fuck herself on his tongue as her core began to clench around him, until she finally screamed his name in pure pleasure.
If he didn't get anything else from her tonight, he'd absolutely dream of this moment over and over again. He'd never forget this. Her sweet nectar oozing onto his tongue as he lapped up every drop. Pressing a kiss to her clit, resting his chin on her lower abdomen while her legs stayed draped over his shoulders, he eyed her curiously, "how do you fair now, my Lady?" He licked his lips happily, the look in his eye was positively sinful.
He'd never been more pleased.
Rhaena, on the other hand, covered her face with her arm. He could still see the faint pink glow blushing down her cheeks towards her exposed chest, groaning while she bit her lip, "surely the entire Keep has heard me,"
Aemond smirked at that, climbing atop her, "good," leaning down to kiss her cheek, the corner of her mouth, and finally he stole her lips in a sloppily possessive kiss.
Reluctant as she was, she still gifted him another sultry moan. Tasting herself on his tongue, his sweet Rhaena. She was gently playing with the way his hair had fallen like a curtain over her, when he pulled back just a bit, she gazed up into his violet eye and his sapphire eye with an indecipherable look in her pale violet eyes.
"Surely I shall be ruined now," she whispered closely.
His gaze bore into hers, all fire and blood, harsh edges bared, "ruined for all others, but not me."
"Why do you want me so badly? We'd make a horrid match, all we do is bicker," she'd pouted just slightly, her brows furrowing deeply. Aemond smiled at her expression, there was something so innocent there...something cute…cute enough to kill...or nurture.
Rolling off of her, he laid himself next to her. Staring up at her ceiling for a moment, still revelling in the fact that he was truly here. He was laying in bed with Rhaena Targaryen after having just pleasured her. He couldn't help but smile to himself about that, surely those cunts, Stark or Corbray would never get to. He was certain they'd never even kissed her, and he'd make certain they'd never get to see her so vulnerable and bare. Those sounds she made should be saved for him and him alone, and that's how he'd keep it.
Then he looked over at Rhaena, a goddess in human form. Messy, fierce, Targaryen perfection right at his fingertips. He reached for her and she leaned into his touch, surely she didn't really think they weren’t meant for one another.
He sighed, gently tucking a silver loc behind her ear, gazing over at her, "most people aren't brave enough to bicker with me, much less a woman,"
"Aemond, I meant it seriously," she squinted at him.
"So did I," rolling his eye, he traced his thumb along the shell of her ear and then down along her jaw, "Rhaena, you must admit it. You do enjoy fighting with me, it awakens the dragon within you. You like our back and forth because it's volatile, sets you on fire and makes you want things."
His eye scanned her face as his words seemed to be setting in for her. She'd pull slightly away, the realization becoming apparent in her eyes, but she hadn't left his grasp.
So he slid his hand down her arm, causing gooseflesh in his wake till he landed on the curve of her hip. Drawing her closer to him, "you enjoy my company, little dragon. As frustrating as that is for you to admit. Monster that I am and all. All those other lowly twats at court may bend to your every whim, but you like this challenge I offer you."
A small smile grew on her sweet lips, "oh, so you wouldn't bow to me?" 
His jaw clenched just slightly, certainly he would, but he wasn't about to admit it to her just yet.
Rhaena's smile slowly faded, "Aemond," she breathed, "maybe it's just a physical attraction,"
Her soft tone clashed with the way he roughly tugged her against him, "if it were, I would have taken what I wanted from you and discarded you by now. I wouldn’t have agonized over you for months and I would not be here speaking of wedding myself to you," he bristled at her previous statement.
His grip on her had become lethal, and she winced against him, but he went on sneering, "who else do you expect to make you feel what I do?"
"Vitriol and annoyance," Rhaena scowled, holding onto his shoulders, nails biting into him, a delicious pain washing over him, "you may be right, you're surely the only one with the correct amount of both."
With that he claimed her lips roughly, she bit his lip but did not release him. Swallowing his groan as she worked to pin him down and hold herself above him.
"See," he smiled venomously, licking his lip to see if she drew blood, "you've spent your life waiting to claim a dragon, so why don't you?"
His chest was heaving as his eye was willing her to do it, Gods, he wanted her to claim him. If she would just choose him...choose him above all others.
He just wanted to be her choice. For even as he's spent countless nights wishing to call Rhaena his . He was just as desperate for her to make him… hers .
Once again she looked as if his words had washed over her, Rhaena's eyes dancing up before she gazed back down at him. Groaning to herself, "Mmm, I suppose we do have much in common, no one else in the Keep reads nearly as much as we do. And I suppose my arguments with you have turned you into less of a cruel feral beast," she smirked down at him.
He'd be the one to roll his eye at the latter half of her reply.
"I suppose I have inadvertently tamed a dragon for myself," she smiled leaning towards his lips, "shall I take my mount, before he grows restless."
At that, Aemond's eye opened wide as he swallowed raggedly.
Did she truly wish to ride him?
-
Hopefully that was decent!
Also, someone smack me and tell me to refocus on my main long-form fic instead this smut! CAUSE why am I so invested in this! I'm multitasking and yet the smut is the only thing being written consistently! Expect Part 4 later in the week! Maybe on weekend! Because I will be dedicating this week to working on ch.5 of my main fic!
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dulcewrites · 1 year ago
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I’m sure y’all can already tell how obsessed I am with putting together little fashion post for my ocs. Since I already did a little moodboard for modern Myrah’s style and as well as a wedding dress post for og fcc, I thought it would be cute to put together a wedding lookbook for a modern wedding between aemyrah.
So, I imagine this wedding being a moment™️. This could change in the future, but just based on how things are rn, Aemond would probably bc the first targtower kid to get married. Maybe even the first between all the kids Alicent and Rhaenyra have. Ofc, no corners are cut for this. Aemond (and by extension myrah) runs viserys credit cards like it’s nothing. Call it well deserved retribution ☝🏽
Bridal Shower
Ok so i see myrah having a upscale garden tea party for her bridal shower. every great bridal shower needs a cute theme. The reality tv show fan in her jumps out and she names it: diamonds and rosé. So all the ladies wear pink (for rose) or even gold (for champagne). And our bride is in white ofc. A very ethereal sparkly moment
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Bachelorette festivities
Myrah def has really fun parties. For her closest girlies (the fam: hel, Esme, amal, Alicent, Rhaenyra, Baela, rhaena, laena), they go skiing/snowboarding. Super opulent and cute. A bit more wholesome bc it’s family
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Then her and her bridesmaids go on a trip themselves. Maybe to a fun city like Ibiza or a yatch trip somewhere
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Rehearsal dinner
I see a silk or satin moment. They probably have it in a pretty ballroom near wherever they are getting married
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Wedding
Ok the extra special part. I think she's go the couture route because she likes to take risk with her fashion choices
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The reception looks would be off the beating path too
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chillyravenart · 4 years ago
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idk if this makes any sense but I always imagined that Giselle Bundchen looks like a perfect targ, like she has the ethereal beauty going on, but i never know which she fits! possibly laena but i’m not sure. thoughts?
Ooh Gisele definitely has Targ vibes! She's stunning! Because she's so statuesque and gorgeous she seems more of a Rhaena (Black Bride) or a Daena the Defiant to me... If she had a crooked nose she could also be a great Alyssa!
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ellizablue · 5 years ago
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I love Emilia’s Dany and Kit’s Jon as well ♥️ Well, if your have references for both the kids as little ones and as adults, that’d be awesome to see ☺️ Also, I’m re reading OFG, and seeing how similar Jon and Aemon’s reaction to Daario was, is hilarious! I didn’t notice the first time I read it!
For lil ones: 
Lyaella (naturally this cosplay is nearly on the nose; Ly’s eyes are more gray than blue, and her hair is curlier & fairer, but this lil baby’s delicate, sweet features seem perfect): 
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Aemon (haven’t found the *perfect* HC for him but this lil guy is close to how I see lil chubby, mischievous ~3 year old Ae, though of course his eyes are violet! His most important feature-- both as a lil one and a grown up-- is a heart-melting smile, and I think this lil cutie has that ❤️):
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Rhaena (her eyes are violet too but look at that widdle face!): 
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@wandener, auntofdragons on Twitter, and I have hashed out the adult HCs for the kids for months 😂😂😂 My first instinct for Ly was Dove Cameron specifically in this music video: 
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(Ethereal beauty, gray eyes-- but I got PUSHBACK from my pals!) Then we said Lucy Boynton: 
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auntofdragons loves this Dany art for Ly: 
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I love all three 🤷‍♀️ Ly’s been our hardest to place for sure. 
For Aemon, this guy is the only ‘face’ I've come across that encapsulates his charm, tho I have no idea who he the model is (and obvs Ae has violet eyes, dark hair, and no freckles):
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Rhae: We teeter between two--
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&
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When I say @wandener and I have gotten into it over these faceclaims....I think her hatred of Dove Cameron nearly made her block me 😂❤️
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princesssszzzz · 3 months ago
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Northern Heat
Word count: 6.4K
Warnings: Fire/Ice Smuttiness
Pairing: Baegan ~ Baela x Cregan
Summary:
A flirty Baela spends a night with her tennis coach Cregan Stark after an unexpected encounter at a bar. Modern!AU
Read on AO3
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Baela leaned back in her chair, letting out a sigh as she sipped her iced latte. The sun streamed through the large windows of the campus coffee shop, warming her, the wooden tables, and the scattered groups of students enjoying their break. The place was lively but not too crowded, with the hum of conversation mixing with the sound of the espresso machine hissing in the background.
Aly took a bite of her toast, smirking at Baela. “So, you’re telling me you’re spending extra hours at tennis practice just to stare at his muscles?”
Baela laughed, trying to hide her grin. “I mean, have you seen them? The guy’s sculpted. And the way his shirt clings to him when he serves. It’s hard to focus on my backhand when I’ve got that in front of me.”
Netty sipped her cold brew, raising an eyebrow. “You know, you could just ask him out. It’s not like he’s your professor.”
Baela rolled her eyes, shaking her head, letting her growing curls fan her face. “It’s not that simple. Cregan is different. He’s not like the boys around here. He’s all about honor and doing the right thing. I think if I even hinted at something, he’d probably run the other way.”
“Or maybe he’s just waiting for the right moment,” Aly said, winking. “You’re the best player he’s coached. Maybe he’s more interested in improving your game than anything else.”
“Yeah, right,” Baela scoffed. “I’m there every other day pretending I need more practice just to spend time with him. He’s so serious about it too, like ‘Baela, you need to work on your footwork’ or ‘Baela, you’re getting too aggressive on your returns.’ Meanwhile, I’m just trying not to drool.”
Netty giggled at her ridiculous deep-voiced impressions of their coach. “You could always just stop pretending, and show him how good you actually are. Then maybe he’ll take you seriously as more than just a student.”
“Maybe,” Baela mused, stirring her drink. “But I don’t want to scare him off. He’s kind of old-fashioned, you know? And I like the way things are right now, even if he’s all ‘Coach Stark’ and nothing else.”
They let their conversation drift to other topics. The class assignments and weekend plans but Baela’s thoughts kept circling back to Cregan. She pictured him at the tennis courts, his focus entirely on her form and technique, those deep blue eyes watching her every move. He was always so composed, so controlled, and yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more beneath the surface, something he wasn’t letting show.
As they finished up their lunch, Baela’s phone buzzed with a message from her sister, Rhaena, who was off on some exotic beach vacation with Garmund in her gap year. *Wish you were here, B! Sun, sand, and no worries.* Baela smiled at the thought, but she was content with where she was for now. She was right in the middle of her own little game, where every day with Cregan was another serve in a match that had only just begun.
“Ready to head out?” Aly asked, gathering her things.
“Yeah,” Baela said, standing up and slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Same time tomorrow?”
“You’re not seriously going back to the courts again, are you?” Netty teased her, speaking loudly so Aly wouldn't miss her calling out Baela.
Baela just grinned. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
As they left the coffee shop, Baela’s thoughts were already on tomorrow’s practice, wondering if maybe Cregan would notice that she wasn’t struggling with her backhand after all.
Baela’s silver curls bounced as she sent the tennis ball flying over the net, her lilac eyes focused on the game. The afternoon sun just barely lit up the courts, contrasting her Targaryen features and the rest of the world even more pronounced. She was used to standing out. No one else on this campus had her ethereal look, and she always noticed how it drew attention. But today, her mind was less on her appearance and more on the man standing on the other side of the net.
Cregan Stark watched her with his usual calm focus, brown eyes steady and unreadable as he returned her shot. His brown hair was slightly tousled from their practice, and Baela found herself studying him in a way she never used to with others. His features were common enough. The typical brown hair and brown eyes. On Coach Stark though, it looked different, more intriguing. She’d never paid attention to those details in anyone else until she met him.
As they rallied back and forth, Baela decided to break the silence between the loud ball smacking. “You know, I’ve always liked your accent,” she said casually, before sending another ball his way.
Cregan paused mid-swing, nearly missing the ball as it flew past him. A faint blush crept up his neck, and he shook his head with a half-smile. “I don’t have an accent,” he protested, even though his deep voice tinged with that unmistakable northern lilt.
“Oh, but you do,” Baela teased, stepping closer to the net. “It’s that northern charm. Makes everything you say sound so rugged.”
Cregan chuckled at her, trying to mask his embarrassment as he retrieved the ball. “I never noticed.”
Baela twirled her racket in her hand, enjoying the way she could get under his skin. “I’m sure the girls back home notice. You must’ve broken a few hearts with that voice.”
Cregan leaned, shaking his head again but this time with a playful glint in his eye. “You’ve been watching too many romantic dramas. I’m just a guy who talks about tennis too much.” He respectfully lowered his head while wiping his sweat, thinking Baela would move on to talk about something else.
“Well, speaking of,” Baela said, trying to keep the conversation going, “how much do you lift at the gym? You’ve got some serious muscles, Coach.”
Cregan raised an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard by the question. “Uh, I don’t keep track. Just enough to stay fit, I guess.” She grinned at his obvious lie and attempts to remain humble.
“Come on,” Baela pressed, moving closer to him as if she could coax the information out of him with her proximity. “And what about outside of tennis and working out? Do you live alone, or do you have someone waiting for you after practice?”
Cregan’s expression softened, and he let out a small sigh, recognizing the direction she was steering the conversation. “I live alone,” he said simply, his tone still guarded. “And most of my time outside of coaching is pretty quiet. Not much to tell.”
Baela tilted her head, studying him with those lilac eyes that always seemed to see more than people wanted to reveal. “Quiet’s not so bad,” she said softly, letting the moment linger between them.
Cregan cleared his throat, sensing the need to bring the conversation back to safer ground. “So, about your backhand,” he began, but Baela just laughed, cutting him off.
“You really can’t help yourself, can you?” her smile making it clear she wasn’t offended.
“It’s my job to make sure you’re ready for your next match,” Cregan replied, a hint of his smile forming. “And you’ve been slacking on your right footwork.” Baela rolled her eyes, but there was warmth in her voice as she said, “Alright, Coach. But one of these days, you’re going to have to stop hiding behind the tennis court.”
Cregan’s gaze met hers before she moved, and for a brief moment, the professionalism he clung to wavered, revealing a flicker of something more. But just as quickly, he composed himself, nodding toward the baseline. “Let’s see that backhand, Targaryen.”
Baela smiled, turning to take her position. “Whatever you say, Stark,” she called over her shoulder already planning her next move, both on and off the court. -
The drive out to the small, off-the-beaten-path bar had been filled with laughter and loud music as Baela, Aly, and Netty left their school and annoying classmates far behind. They were in the middle of nowhere now, hours away surrounded by fields and old farmhouses that looked nothing like the sleek buildings they were used to in the city.
“This place is so different,” Netty said, leaning forward from the back seat. “It’s like we’ve stepped back in time or something.”
Baela grinned, her lilac eyes scanning the quaint, almost hick-town vibe of the area. “Yeah, it’s kind of nice not having to deal with any of those idiots from school, though.”
“True,” Aly added as she navigated the narrow road slowly, trying not to crash. “I swear, if I have to hear another guy try to impress me by talking about his car, I’m going to scream.”
They all laughed, the kind of carefree giggle that only comes when you’re far enough from your usual world that it feels like nothing can touch you.
When they finally pulled into the gravel parking lot of the bar, the place looked like something out of an old movie. Wooden beams, dim lighting, and a jukebox playing some country song in the corner. It was perfect for a night of just being themselves.
As they grabbed a booth and ordered drinks, the conversation turned to family. A topic that was always full of drama for Baela.
“So, what’s the latest with your mom?” Aly asked, taking a sip of her drink.
Baela shrugged, a smile tugging at her lips. “She’s good. She spent so long raising me and Rhaena, so we’ve been telling her to ignore my dad and go be a model, do whatever makes her happy. I even told her to cheat on him if she bumps into hot actor or something.”
Netty snorted into her coke. “Goddamn, Baela. That’s cold.”
“Why not?” Baela said with a laugh. “It’s not like he’s ever around. He’s too busy doing whatever dirty work my uncle has him wrapped up in. Pretty sure he’s a criminal, honestly.”
“At least you’ve got money,” Netty said, half-joking. “I mean, I grew up broke. Had to hustle for a scholarship just to get into our school. Now I steal food for fun, even though you keep offering to pay for everything with your dad’s credit card.”
She giggled at her kleptomaniac tendencies, almost getting her and Aly arrested once at a mall.
Baela rolled her eyes but smiled. “You know I don’t care about the money.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Netty waved her off with a grin. “But where’s the fun in swiping a card?”
They all laughed again. It was nice to let loose, especially with the chaos of their lives. As they settled into the vibe of the bar, they listened to Aly rant about bailing her cousin out of jail before Baela spoke again. She decided to share something that had been gnawing at her.
“Speaking of cousin drama,” she began, lowering her voice a little, “Aegon’s been following me around again, trying to.” She widened her eyes. “Well, you know.”
Aly and Netty exchanged looks of disgust. “That’s messed up,” Aly said, shaking her head. “He’s so disgusting.”
“Yeah, tell him to back off,” Netty added. “Or better yet, just smack him.”
Baela sighed. “I know, it’s just yuck.”
Before they could dive further into that conversation, Baela’s attention was suddenly caught by a loud burst of deep laughter from the bar. Her eyes widened when she realized it was Cregan, clearly drunk and surrounded by a group of guys. He was louder than she’d ever heard him, his usual stoic demeanor replaced by something much rowdier.
“What?” Baela started, blinking in surprise.
Aly followed her gaze and grinned. “Well, well, if it isn’t Coach Stark letting loose.”
Netty peered, trying not to look too hard. “He’s hot even when he’s a mess. Bless him.”
Baela felt her heart skip a beat. She had a crush on Cregan, sure, but seeing him like this was a shock. She’d never imagined him as anything other than the serious, honorable guy he was on the tennis court. This side of him, drunk and loud, was completely new.
“I’ve never seen him like this,” Baela muttered, still trying to wrap her head around it.
Aly nudged her with a smirk. “Maybe now’s your chance to see what he’s really like.”
Baela hesitated, watching as Cregan laughed with his friends, his brown hair looking disheveled and his usually sharp eyes completely relaxed. It was weird seeing him so unguarded, but part of her was curious, maybe even excited, to see this side of him.
“Go on,” Netty urged, "Go say hi.”
Baela took a deep breath, then nodded. “Okay, but if this is a disaster, I’m blaming you two.”
With that, she slid out of the booth and made her way over to the bar, her heart racing. As she got closer, Cregan looked up and noticed her, his expression shifting from surprise to something softer.
“Baela?” he said, his voice a little slurred but still familiar. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” she replied, trying to sound casual as she leaned against the bar.
Cregan chuckled, though it was rougher than usual. “Just, having a night out, I guess.”
Baela smiled, but she could feel the awkwardness in the air. He was shocked to see her there. This wasn’t the Cregan she was used to, and it threw her off. “Well, it’s good to see you, Coach. Didn’t think I’d run into you here.”
“Yeah,” he said, looking into his drink. “Didn’t think you’d see me like this, either.”
There was a beat of silence before Cregan looked back up at her, his usual guarded expression slipping away for just a moment. “You having a good time with your friends?” He peered over at the two girls failing to hide that they’d been watching him.
Baela nodded, sensing a vulnerability in him that she hadn’t noticed before. “Yeah, we needed to get away from school for a bit and get a drink.”
Cregan smiled faintly, then gestured to his drink. “Want a round? My treat.”
Baela was about to say no to be polite, but then she saw the way his eyes held a glint of something. Curiosity got the better of her, and she found herself nodding. “Sure, why not?”
As they stood at the bar, drinks in hand, Baela couldn’t help but feel like she was seeing a new side of Cregan.
-
Baela twirled on the dance floor, her silver curls catching the light as she moved to the beat of the tenth unfamiliar country song. She didn’t care that she didn’t know the words. All she cared about was the feeling of freedom that came from being miles away from campus, far from the prying eyes of their annoying classmates.
Aly and Netty danced alongside her, laughing as they tried to keep up with the rhythm. The bar was small and a bit rundown, but it had a certain charm that made it perfect for a night like this. It was just the three of them, letting loose and enjoying the night without a care in the world. No cousins. No school.
As Baela spun around again, she caught a glimpse of Cregan at the bar. He was alone now and was watching her, his brown eyes fixed on her every move. The intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down her spine, making her heart race. It was a look she wasn’t used to from him, one that was far from the usual stern and professional expression he wore during practice.
He was still sitting at the bar, his drink in hand, but he hadn’t taken a sip in a while. Instead, his attention was entirely on her, as if she was the only other person in the room. Baela’s stomach fluttered at the thought. She wasn’t used to seeing him like this, and it was throwing her off balance in the best way possible.
When the song ended, Aly and Netty finally decided to take a break, leaving the dance floor and giving Baela a knowing look as they headed toward a booth in the corner. “Go talk to him,” Netty whispered with a grin before she and Aly retreated to the bathroom to give Baela and Cregan some privacy.
Baela hesitated for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest. Then, summoning her courage, she made her way back over and slid onto the stool next to Cregan. His eyes followed her every move, and the heat of his gaze was almost palpable.
“You guys sure know how to make a statement.”
She blushed at his comment, feeling a little more emboldened by the alcohol coursing through her veins. “Well, it’s not every day we end up in a place like this. We figured we’d go big or go home.”
He gave her a lazy smile that sent another shiver down her spine. “You certainly did that.”
Baela bit her lip, noticing the way his gaze lingered on her mouth before he finally took a sip of his drink. “You're different tonight,” she observed, her tone curious. “Looser, I guess.”
Cregan’s smirk deepened, and he leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. “Maybe that’s because I’m not on the clock. No reason to be uptight when I’m off-duty.”
Baela raised an eyebrow, still not entirely convinced. “Or maybe you’re just drunk.”
He shook his head, the smirk never leaving his face. “I’m of sound mind, I promise. This is just what we do in the North. We drink, we let loose, we have a good time. That doesn’t mean I’m not in control.”
Baela felt her pulse quicken at his words, the flirtatious edge in his voice catching her off guard. “You’re not worried about getting too carried away?”
Cregan’s eyes darkened slightly, his gaze never leaving hers. “Depends on what you mean by ‘carried away.’”
Baela swallowed hard, her mind racing to keep up with the sudden shift in their conversation. This wasn’t the careful, measured Cregan she was used to.
“So,” she began, trying to keep her voice steady, “what would you do if I told you I wanted to get carried away?”
Cregan’s smirk faded into something more serious, more intense. “I’d ask you if you were sure that’s what you really wanted.”
Baela’s breath caught in her throat. She wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol talking or if she was really feeling this way, but suddenly, the idea of getting carried away with Cregan didn’t seem so crazy.
Before she could respond, though, he leaned back slightly, giving her a moment to think. “No one knows you’re my student here,” he said, his tone softer now. “It’s just you and me.”
The realization hit Baela like a ton of bricks. No one in this bar had any idea who they were or what their relationship was supposed to be. They were just two people in a bar, sharing a moment that could go anywhere.
“I’m not used to seeing you like this,” Baela admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
Cregan reached out, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. “Maybe it’s time you got used to it.”
Baela’s heart skipped a beat at his touch, her resolve crumbling under the weight of his words. She’d never seen this side of him before, but now that she had, she wasn’t sure she could go back to pretending he was just her coach. Not when he was looking at her like this.
Around them, the bar continued to buzz with activity, but for Baela, the only thing that mattered was the man sitting beside her. The man who, in this moment, wasn’t just her coach but something much more.
As the night wore on, the bar began to empty out, leaving only a few stragglers nursing their last drinks. Netty and Aly finished their dancing, cheeks flushed and smiles wide, before grabbing their things and heading toward the exit. They waved at Baela on their way out, giving her one last teasing grin before disappearing into the night.
Baela watched them leave, then turned back to Cregan, who was still sitting beside her. He signaled the bartender for another round of drinks, a mischievous grin on his face. “You might be a tough girl, Baela, but you’re still a city girl through and through,” he teased.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Baela shot back, raising an eyebrow.
He chuckled, shaking his head. “You said you wanted a cocktail or martini earlier. But this place? It’s all about the beer.”
Baela rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help but laugh. “Fine, but only because you’re buying.”
Cregan grinned as the bartender set down two new frosty mugs of beer in front of them. “See? You’re getting the hang of it.”
They clinked their heavy mugs together, the cool beer a stark contrast to the warmth of the bar. The conversation flowed easily between them, and before they knew it, hours had passed, and they were the last ones left inside.
Eventually, Cregan tossed some cash on the counter, and they made their way outside into the cool night air. Baela couldn’t help but notice the old, beat-up truck parked in the lot, its paint chipped and rusted in places. She smirked, pointing at it. “That yours?”
Cregan glanced at the truck, then back at her, a wry smile on his face. “Yeah, what’s wrong with it?”
Baela laughed, shaking her head. “Nothing, just… it’s a little different from my new BMW, that’s all.”
Cregan smirked, leaning against the truck. “Your family’s got more money than mine for sure, but we’ve been around here longer. This old boy’s been through a lot.” He patted the creaky frame.
Baela grinned, appreciating his honesty. “Well, let’s see if it still runs.”
Cregan opened the passenger door for her, and she slid in, the worn leather seats creaking beneath her. As he climbed into the driver’s seat, she couldn’t resist making one last jab. “You sure this thing’s gonna make it out of the parking lot?”
Cregan shot her a sideways glance, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “It’s got a few more miles in it, just like me.”
He started the engine, the truck rumbling to life with a low growl. As they pulled out of the parking lot, Baela turned to him, her expression softening.
“Hey you don’t have to drive me home, you know,” she said, her voice teasing, trying to sound seductive.
Cregan glanced at her, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Oh? Where am I taking you, then?”
Baela leaned back in her creaky seat, her heart pounding in her chest as she looked him in the eye. “Your place.”
Cregan’s grip on the steering wheel tightened ever so slightly, and the flirtatious banter between them suddenly charged with yet another tension. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just kept his eyes on the gravel road as they drove through the dark streets.
Finally, he nodded, his voice low and steady. “Alright, Baela. My place it is.”
Cregan’s truck rumbled down a winding, tree-lined road, the headlights cutting through the darkness as they made their way to his place. Baela stared out the cracked window, the cool night air streaming in slowly. Her thoughts raced as she tried to make sense of everything that had happened that night. The sudden shift from playful banter to something far more intense and intimate was throwing her off but in the best way possible. She was finally getting what she wanted.
When they finally pulled up in front of a large but modest weather-worn house, Baela couldn’t help but smirk. The place had a certain rustic charm, but it was clear it had seen better days. The paint was peeling in places, and the porch looked like it could use some work. “Wow, Coach,” Baela teased, stepping out of the truck. “Ever think about renovating? You know, joining us in the 21st century?”
"It’s a little rough around the edges, but it’s home,” he replied, his tone still playful. “It’s got character.”
Baela followed him up the loudly creaking steps, her eyes flicking to the worn wood beneath her feet. “Yeah, it’s got...something. Might want to start with replacing these steps before they collapse.”
He unlocked the door, shaking his head with a grin at her comments. “I’ll get right on that, Princess.”
Inside, the house was just as she’d imagined. Cozy and dated, with an old-fashioned feel that spoke to the house’s long history. The furniture was sturdy but clearly well-worn, and the decor was simple, with no frills or unnecessary luxuries. Her parents would hate to live in a place like this. It was a far cry from the sleek, modern interiors she was used to, but there was something undeniably charming about it.
Baela took it all in, walking around the small living room as she shrugged out of her jacket. “This place is definitely you, Cregan. Rugged, a little rough around the edges, but solid.”
Cregan appreciated the flattery, leaning against the doorframe as he watched her. “You’re full of compliments tonight, aren’t you?”
Baela turned to face him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Just calling it like I see it.”
He shook his head, grinning while staring at her. “Make yourself at home, then.”
She walked over to the old couch, running her hand along the worn fabric before turning back to him with a teasing smile. “May I?”
Cregan raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s sturdier than it looks.”
Baela didn’t miss the way his eyes followed her every move, the tension between them thickening with each passing moment. She bit her lip, feeling a thrill at the way he looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time. With a playful glint in her eye, she slowly reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and over her head in one smooth motion.
Cregan’s breath hitched as she tossed the shirt aside, leaving her in just her bra and low-rise jeans. “Baela.”
She smiled, reclining on the old couch as if it were the most comfortable thing in the world. “You said to make myself at home.”
His eyes darkened, the air between them sparking up as he pushed off the doorframe and took a step toward her. “Baela.” He repeated her name.
She leaned back, resting her head against the arm of the couch as she looked up at him, her voice soft and teasing. “Yes?”
Cregan’s jaw tightened as he closed the distance between them, the space shrinking until he was standing right in front of her, looking down at her with an intensity that sent a shiver down her body.
Baela’s heart pounded in her chest as she met his gaze, the banter between them fading into something far more serious, far more sensual.
Baela watched as Cregan stood over her, his usually guarded expression replaced with something raw and intense. The tension that had been simmering between them finally reached a boiling point, and she could feel the electricity crackling in the air.
She tilted her head back, her silver curls spilling over the arm of the couch as she gazed up at him, a soft, teasing smile playing on her lips. “Are you just going to stand there, Coach? Or are you going to join me?”
Cregan’s eyes darkened, the usual restraint he showed around her nowhere to be found. He slowly knelt beside the couch, his hands resting on her knees as he gently pushed them apart. His touch was careful, almost reverent, but there was a hunger in his eyes that made Baela’s heart race.
“You’re something else, Baela,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “You know that?”
She laughed softly, the sound light and breathless. “I’ve been told that once or twice.”
Without another word, Cregan leaned down, his lips brushing against her skin as he kissed a slow path along her inner thigh. Baela’s breath caught in her throat, her teasing demeanor slipping as a shiver of anticipation ran through her.
The scruff of his beard grazed her skin, the sensation both ticklish and incredibly intimate. She let out a surprised giggle, the unexpected feeling breaking through the seriousness of the moment. “Your beard,” she whispered, her voice full of laughter. “It tickles.”
Cregan paused, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he looked up at her. “You like it?”
She nodded, biting her lip to stifle another giggle. “It’s different. Good different.”
With a low chuckle, he returned to his slow exploration, his hands firm and sure as they guided her hips closer to him. Baela’s laughter faded into soft gasps as the sensation of his mouth on her skin sent waves of pleasure coursing through her. The playful banter between them melted away, replaced by something deeper, more intimate.
Time seemed to blur as they lost themselves in the moment, the connection between them intensifying with each passing second. When Cregan finally moved to kiss her, his lips claiming hers with a fierce passion, Baela responded eagerly, her hands tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer.
She moaned into his mouth, tasting him. He tasted like mint and the faint traces of cinnamon, a mix that uniquely seemed like him. It made her crave more and when his hands trailed down her back to remove their clothes, she let out a small sigh of satisfaction, arching into him unconsciously. She felt him smirk against her mouth before he deepened the kiss.
Cregan lifted her effortlessly, guiding her onto his lap as he settled back against the worn couch. Baela straddled him, her hands bracing against his shoulders as she gazed down at him, her silver curls framing her face. She could feel the heat of his body beneath her palms, his breath warm against her lips as he looked up at her with so much desire.
His dark gaze traveled down her body, making her blush slightly, but he quickly caught her eye again. He smirked as if he knew exactly what was going through her mind. “You’re beautiful, Baela,” he breathed. “Everything about you is gorgeous.”
Baela flushed even darker as she bit her lip, moving in to kiss him again. She kissed him long and deep, feeling him respond hungrily as one hand came up to cup her breast, her hips grinding lightly into him. Her breathing quickened as he began to caress her, rubbing against her intimately. His erection pressed firmly against her stomach, which elicited a soft whimper from her. He smiled against her lips. “What do you want?"
He whispered huskily again when she didn't answer, too preoccupied with nipping him with kisses. "Tell me, baby."
Baela shook her head against his lips. She couldn't breathe properly, her chest heaving with the need for air as he continued kissing her senselessly. She ran one hand up his chiseled arm as he held her against him, his fingers digging into her hip bone.
He pulled away just enough to say, “Come on, you're always so brave. Don’t be shy now, tell me what you want.” His voice sounded hoarse and it took everything in her not to squirm in pleasure, her arousal flaring even more. “Please tell me what you want.” His tone was pleading and it sent a shiver down her spine.
“You know what I want Stark.” The words were barely audible as she fought to stay sane.
“I want to hear you say it, Baela. Please.”
Her breath hitched as his fingers slipped in between them, finding the opening between her legs. The cool air made her shudder as his fingers brushed against her sensitive skin. “Oh, god.”
She sighed before speaking again. "Fuck me."
“Yes,” he said immediately, pressing his lips hard against hers to emphasize his agreement as he licked his way around her breasts, kissing every inch of her exposed skin until his mouth found her nipple and lined himself up to her opening.
Baela cried out, arching upwards into him as she arched against him. His fingers teased her, teasing her until she begged him to thrust inside her. He complied instantly, sliding deep inside her. They both gasped and then moaned together, panting with the intensity of their pleasure. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck as they moved together.
Cregan’s grip tightened, his eyes never leaving hers as he moved with her, their bodies perfectly in sync. Baela’s breath hitched as the intensity of the moment threatened to overwhelm her, but she refused to look away, wanting to capture every detail of this moment between them.
They rocked slowly, building up the speed as they rode the waves of their passion. His hands gripped her bottom as he pulled her in tighter, driving into her relentlessly, his cock stretching her further as they continued their erotic dance. She groaned softly, the pleasure unbearable as her climax peaked. She buried her face in his shoulder as she trembled and convulsed, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes from the force of her release. She only wanted this, to make sure this wasn't fleeting.
He groaned as well, his entire body trembling as his climax crashed over him. After a few minutes, he leaned back, resting his weight against her as he struggled for breath. His face glistened with sweat, his chest rising rapidly as he tried to calm himself. Baela smiled fondly as she smoothed the damp strands of his dark brown hair off his forehead.
The tension that had built up between them over the past weeks finally found its release, their connection had deepened with every touch, every kiss, every shared breath. The playful banter, the unspoken longing, the undeniable chemistry. All of it came together in a perfect storm of emotions that left them both breathless.
Baela let out a soft, contented sigh as she rested her head on his shoulder, her silver curls brushing against his cheek. Cregan wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as they sat there in the quiet aftermath, the tension between them finally giving way to a comfortable, shared silence.
After a long moment, Baela lifted her head, her lilac eyes meeting his with a playful smile. “I guess your old couch isn’t so bad after all.”
Cregan chuckled, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Told you it was sturdier than it looks.”
Baela laughed, the sound light and carefree as she nestled against him, savoring the warmth of his embrace.
The soft morning light filtered through the thin curtains of Cregan’s bedroom, casting a waking Baela up. She stirred, a lazy smile stretching across her face as the events of the previous night came flooding back. She felt the warmth of the blankets against her skin and the comfort of the old, worn-in bed beneath her. It was surprisingly cozy for such a rugged place, though she had a feeling that might have had more to do with the man than the bed itself.
The sound of footsteps drew her attention, and she turned her head just in time to see Cregan walk in, still naked, carrying a tray with breakfast. Baela couldn’t help but burst into laughter, the sight of him so casual and at ease making the moment feel both surreal and ridiculously charming.
“Well, good morning to you too,” she teased, her lilac eyes sparkling with amusement. “You always serve breakfast like this, Coach?”
Cregan grinned, setting the tray down on the bed before leaning down to kiss her on the forehead. “Only for special guests.”
Baela rolled her eyes playfully, sitting up and taking in the spread before her. Eggs, toast, and a few slices of bacon. Simple, but it smelled delicious. She grabbed a piece of toast, nibbling on it as she looked up at him, curiosity getting the better of her.
“So,” she started her voice light and teasing. “How does a guy like you end up being a tennis coach? I mean, you don’t exactly fit the stereotype.”
Cregan chuckled, sliding back into the bed beside her and leaning against the headboard. “Honestly? I don’t know. It just happened. I played a lot of sports growing up, and was pretty good at it. One thing led to another, and the next thing I knew, I was coaching.”
Baela raised an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with his vague answer. “That’s it? No secret passion for tennis? No dramatic backstory?”
He laughed, shaking his head. “Nope. Just a guy who’s good at sports and wanted a job.”
Baela was about to press him further when something suddenly dawned on her. Her eyes widened, and she dropped the toast onto the tray, sitting up straight. “Oh my gods, I left my phone at the bar! Netty and Aly have probably been calling this entire time.”
Cregan smirked, clearly not as concerned as she was. “Don’t worry about it.”
“What do you mean, ‘don’t worry about it’? I need my phone! What if someone took it?”
He leaned in, his grin widening as he brushed a strand of silver hair behind her ear. “Baela, it’s fine. I own the bar.”
She blinked, her mind trying to process what he’d just said. “What?”
Cregan nodded, clearly enjoying her confusion. “And most of the northern part of town, too. It’s a family thing.”
Baela stared at him, utterly shocked. “You’re kidding.”
He shook his head, still grinning as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against hers. “Afraid not, Princess.”
Baela’s mind reeled as she tried to wrap her head around this new revelation. Cregan wasn’t just a coach. He was practically the king of this small town. And here she was, sitting naked in his bed, having spent the night in his arms.
Before she could ask any more questions, the older man kissed her, his lips warm and insistent against hers. The shock of his revelation melted away, replaced by the familiar heat of their connection. Baela kissed him back, her hands finding their way to his chest as she pulled him closer.
As their lips parted, Baela couldn’t help but smile, the surprise still lingering in her eyes. “You really are full of surprises, aren’t you?”
Cregan chuckled, his forehead resting against hers as he looked into her lilac eyes. “Stick around, Baela. You might find there’s a lot more to discover.”
Baela smiled softly, shaking her head in disbelief as she pulled him in for another kiss, the rest of the world fading away as she lost herself in the moment.
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