#jacaerys valeryon fluff

[brokenmenswhore]

betrothals & brothels | aegon, aemond, & jace

part 3

pairings: aegon targaryen x stark fem!reader, aemond targaryen x stark fem!reader, jacaerys velaryon x stark fem!reader

series summary: aemond targaryen tells the realm that you, the lady of house stark, are to wed him and secure a partnership in the north. in protest, you agree to marry jacaerys velaryon, affirming the north’s allegiance to rhaenyra. when the news hits king’s landing, aegon decides it’s better to have you under his watchful eye until the political partnership is solidified, but doesn’t realize you have a life away from your duty as a stark

chapter warnings: angst (a lil from everyone)

a/n: are you guys dying for the smut are you just dying for it i promise we’re almost there

series masterlist

────── ☾ ──────

“This is your fault!” Aegon screamed, bursting into the small council room, doors swinging shut as he slammed a thin piece of paper down on the table in front of Aemond.

Aemond remained level-headed, eye traveling down to the paper in front of him as he began to read.

“You,” Aegon stomped forward, an accusatory finger pointed at his brother, “you granted her access to a raven. She must have asked him to come. This is on you.”

“Speak plainly, Aegon,” Alicent snapped, elbows resting on the table as she wiped her fingers across her eyes in frustration, “we do not understand your hysterics.”

“The precious prince allowed his newly betrothed to send a letter to Dragonstone,” Aegon spat, “without clearing its contents.”

“I do not understand,” Alicent spoke.

“Our beloved nephew has requested to visit,” Aemond spoke, completely unphased by the rage exhibited by his brother, “he is aware the Stark girl is here.”

“Jacaerys requested an audience with you?” Alicent clarified, bewildered at the boldness of the young prince.

“He must only be so bold by request. She must have requested he ask such a thing. He would not do it on his own. I dare say his cock is not big enough.”

“Aegon!” his mother scolded, taking a deep breath, “I assume we are all in agreement that this is not permissible?”

Lord Wylde, Master of Laws, raised a hand, “if I may, Your Grace, denying this request may only worsen things.”

“How?” Aegon asked.

“If the boy does not intend to commit an infraction against the crown, denying him travel may seem like an act of fear. The false queen may believe you see her as a threat that cannot breach the castle walls, for if she does, she will take the throne.”

“And you think her capable of doing such things should she be in my presence, Lord Wylde?” Aegon said, standing at the head of the table, palms flat against the wood.

“Your Grace, I mean no offense-“

“We are talking about Jacaerys, not the false queen, Lord Wylde,” Aemond interrupted, “and he would not dare try anything rash. He knows he would not survive a battle against my sword.”

Aegon raised a hand and gestured toward his brother. “Are you saying you think the crown should allow this visitation?”

“I do not see why not.”

“Are you simply trying to absolve yourself of guilt, brother?” Aegon’s tone began to calm down, “for you are the one to blame here.”

“Why don’t I simply ask the girl if she requested his presence?” Aemond suggested, sighing through the words in annoyance at his brother’s temperament.

“She would not tell you,” Aegon replied.

“I believe she would. She is many things, but she has not yet proven herself to be dishonest.”

“If she is so trustworthy, why did she insist on sending a letter without clearance in the first place? What do you possibly think her writings contained? A declaration of her love for you?”

Aemond slammed a hand on the desk and stood up abruptly, his chair sliding back on the stone floor behind him. Aegon was taunting him now.

“If you think yourself incapable of holding ground against our nephew, then by all means, brother, deny his request. I, however, know that no destruction could come from the hands of Jacaerys. I believe him too weak. Do you not?”

Aegon sighed in frustration, trying to remain discreet with his eyes as he glanced to the members of the council, all staring at him in wait.

“Mother?” he spoke, head turned toward Alicent, awaiting her input.

“It is rather dangerous,” she began, her mild slightly changed, “but I believe it may be taken as a sign of good faith. We simply must be diligent in our protective measures upon his arrival.”

Aegon dropped his head. He did not want Jacaerys to come to King’s Landing- he hated his young nephew. Jacaerys was Rhaenyra’s heir, making him a direct threat to Aegon’s crown, and Jacaerys was the reason everything with you had become so difficult. Aemond was not a great help, but if Jacaerys had not proposed a betrothal upon hearing Aemond’s announcement of his intentions to wed you, Aegon would not be in this predicament.

Denying this request was an assurance of Aegon’s safety against the Blacks, but could also be taken as a gesture of war, a true strife between a broken family. Accepting this request put Aegon’s livelihood in danger, but he did not want to appear weak enough as to think Jacaerys could be a legitimate threat to him or his power.

“Does no one think the boy may have ulterior motive?” spoke Ser Tyland Lannister, Master of Coin, “we are discussing inviting the enemy into our walls. There should be no question about what decision is best. He should not come.”

“What do you believe he is capable of, Ser Tyland?” Aemond asked, almost mocking.

“For one, how are we to ensure only he will arrive? Granting him access to our city may spark a chain reaction. Other Blacks may think it okay to come here. Rhaenyra herself, for one.”

The small council remained quiet, debating upon Tyland’s words. Many of them had not considered the possibility of Rhaenyra taking the opportunity to come, likely on dragonback.

“We should be worried about Rhaenyra always, not just if her son were to come,” Ser Criston Cole chimed in, “if she intended on bringing herself and Syrax here, she would have done so. She does not need a formal invitation. I believe her capable of doing as she pleases, when she pleases. The threat of her arrival is always imminent, I do not believe it more prominent should we allow your nephew to come, Your Grace.”

“Ser Cole is right,” Aemond agreed, “the same applies for our young nephew. If he wanted to, he could simply arrive of his own volition. He, instead, had the courtesy to request an audience with us, lest he decide to take it by force instead. We should take this request as a gesture of good will.”

“Does no one understand how detrimental this would be?” Aegon said, clearly becoming frustrated with the council he was receiving, “we are at war. There is a tremendous deal of pressing matters to attend to and we are here, discussing if it is wise to allow the enemy into our home.”

“None of us believe this war could have been avoided,” Alicent’s tone was calm, pulling Aegon out of his head, “but I believe there are those of us that wish it different. He is still your family, and he truly may just want to see the Stark girl. Maybe this will render our situation capable of change.”

Aegon took his mother’s words to heart. He was perhaps the only one who truly wanted a war, he was angry, and he wanted to spill blood, but he trusted his mother. Catastrophes may have been avoided if there was still a sense of family amongst the Targaryens.

“Tell him to come,” Aegon said, “but only come alone.”

✶

Aegon had considered storming into your chambers, voice raised and demanding to know the contents of your letter to Jacaerys, but he had not seen or spoken to you since his moment of vulnerability. He did not know what to say or how to act in your presence, and he thought it better to avoid placing himself in any circumstance that would require him to think of it.

Instead, he found himself beside Aemond, watching from atop the Red Keep as Vermax’s wings came into focus, a hint of green visible in the distant sky when the sun hit at just the right angle.

When Aegon felt comfortable that it was only Jacaerys who was approaching, he retreated to the throne room, Aemond maintaining his position to assist in security measures should the King’s Guard need him.

Jacaerys landed Vermax directly in front of the Keep doors, the wind from the dragon’s wings nearly knocking over guards and smallfolk alike.

The moment Vermax calmed, Jacaerys left his mount, feet not on the ground for a moment before the King’s Guard rushed him and began to pat him down. His hand remained tightly secured to the hilt of his sword, at is always had, as the men stepped away, gesturing him forward. Jacaerys nodded, entering the keep and directing himself toward the throne room. He expected nothing less of his uncle, knowing his desire to appear powerful would manipulate his choice of placement.

He marched forward, the guards desperately attempting to keep up with his footing, as he swung the doors to the throne room open, finding Aegon sat upon the mess of swords, expecting his entrance.

Jacaerys did not bow, the only reason he stopped at the steps of the throne being a gesture of good faith, an assurance he did not intend to charge his uncle, sword in hand.

“It has been quite a while, uncle,” Jacaerys spoke, matter-of-factly.

It bothered Aegon to no end that he did not speak first. “As it has.”

Jacaerys and Aegon exchanged a glance for a brief few moments, neither sure of how to initiate a conversation.

Jacaerys took a deep breath, fighting with every cell of his being to remain calm. “You know why I am here, uncle. Where is she?”

Aegon smiled, his posture resting in a casual position on the throne. “You already know her whereabouts. Is that not why you’ve come?”

“Let me see her.”

“No.”

“Let me. See her,” Jacaerys repeated, a pause between the words.

“Or what?”

Jacaerys cocked his head to the side, trying to control his breathing. He refused to be the reason any hostility was initiated.

“Do you think I’ve traveled all this way for a bickering match?”

Despite Jace’s better judgement, he could not mask his bitter tone.

“You asked to come. I do not remember ever promising you an audience with the Stark.”

“Her brother misses her dearly.”

“I am sure he does.”

“As do I.”

Aegon did not expect anything remotely close to a genuine confession from Jacaerys. He searched Jacaerys’s eyes for any hint of regret, but to no avail. Jacaerys had meant to toy with Aegon’s heart; there was hope that if Aegon could view him as human, as family once again, he would he more lenient with granting requests. He knew Aegon had a somewhat tender heart underneath his cold exterior.

“She is not a piece of property, Aegon, tell me where you are keeping her.”

“Soon she will be wed to Aemond, in which case, she will be more my family than yours. She is not property, sure. She is Aemond’s.”

“We do not hold family hostage.”

“How is your mother? Hm?” Aegon started, beginning to play with the fabric on the hilt if his dagger as he shifted the subject, “still crying over a lost throne?”

Jacaerys’ nostrils flared in annoyance, the muscles on his neck flexing as Aegon laughed, happy to have garnered a reaction from his nephew. He loved to tease Jace, annoy him, get him all worked up, and force him into a rage. Jacaerys knew this, and fought against it as hard as he could.

“Be nice, brother, Jacaerys is family after all,” Aemond interrupted, a confident walk taking him across the room until he was standing but a few feet away from Jacaerys. “Besides, who wouldn’t want to see the girl? She is all too pleasurable to look at.”

“Mind your tongue, uncle,” Jacaerys snapped back.

“You are rather possessive of my betrothed,” Aemond teased.

Jacaerys took a deep breath, bowing his head briefly to reset his temperament. “Where is she, Aemond?”

“In her room, where else?”

“It is not her room if it is not her home.”

“Aemond will be her home soon,” Aegon chimed in, “and I’ve already told you you may not see her. She is not permitted to leave her chambers.”

Jacaerys’s brow furrowed in slight confusion as he looked back and forth between his two uncles. “First you kidnap her, and now you do not even grant her the courtesy of leaving a singular room?”

“Though I will say, Aemond seems to have no issue letting her out at will,” Aegon spoke, resentment evident in his voice.

“Meaning what?” Jacaerys asked for clarification.

“Meaning nothing,” Aemond said, rushing to get the words in before Aegon could elaborate.

The three Targaryens exchanged glances, unsure how to continue. The conversation was going nowhere, and Jacaerys was concerned about Aegon’s previous comment. What was Aemond doing to you?

“I did not come all this way for nothing,” Jacaerys stated, “let me see her.”

“What do we get in return for granting you an audience?” Aemond bartered.

“The gift of keeping your life.”

Aemond snickered. “You could not beat me if you tried.”

“I do not wish to. I, however, will do whatever it takes.”

“You would dare draw your sword at us just to speak with your Northern whore?” Aegon threw your scandalous reputation at Jacaerys, hoping it would strike a chord and cause him to act irrationally.

“I would,” Jacaerys focused on Aegon, “and if she is truly a whore, you should exhibit no true possessiveness toward her.”

Aegon stood, ready to combat his nephew’s words, potentially with his dagger.

“Under supervision, of course,” Aemond spoke, cutting off Aegon’s thoughts and actions, “I’m sure such a thing can be arranged.”

“I do not answer to you,” Jacaerys spat.

“Then why did you ask permission to come here?”

“I will not be responsible for worsening a war.”

Aemond gave Jacaerys a slight nod. Aemond’s greatest gift was his inability to be manipulated. Each and every decision he made was cold and calculated, never faltering on his own personal plans.

“I’m sure you expect conditions.”

“I do not need a handmaiden present to speak to my future wife.”

“You will not have a handmaiden present,” Aemond sighed, “but I require to be present for anyone who expects an audience with my betrothed.”

Aegon sighed and threw his hands up. Aemond had a habit of negotiating, despite never seeking Aegon’s authority to do so.

Jacaerys remembered your letter. It is imperative that he believe me good on my word. He was angry, and unafraid to contest your betrothal to Aemond, believing you to still be betrothed to him. He would call you his betrothed to the ends of the earth, but he was cautious to not mentioned your promise to him in your letter.

“Fine.”

If it meant he could see you, he would bear more time spent with his uncle.

Aemond showed Jacaerys to your quarters, silence befalling them both. They had much to say to one another, but neither of them wanted to fight. Aemond just wanted Jacaerys to leave, and Jacaerys just wanted to see you.

Aemond gave a small knock to your apartment door, something he never did.

The unfamiliar sound caught you off guard. “Come in,” you called toward the door, expecting to see an inexperienced handmaiden enter.

When Aemond appeared, you stood up abruptly, nervous as to why he was here in the middle of the day. Was he revoking your access to the streets? Had Aegon discovered your secret? Was he aware of your business in the streets? Were you being further punished for existing?

Every worry, every thought, every nervous feeling swiftly left your body as Jacaerys walked through the door, stopping short the moment he saw you. Your breathing caught in your throat, a sharp gasp lost before it could be completed.

Jacaerys’s features softened the instant he saw you. He nearly forgot how beautiful you were. The crown had only given you lavish green dresses, forcing you to look as one of them. Despite Jacaerys’s internal recoil at the sight, you wore the color well, and he knew it was not your choice. He believed that you would look beautiful in any color, even that of the enemy.

“Jacaerys,” you spoke, so softly he wouldn’t have heard it if he wasn’t giving you his complete attention.

“Hi,” he spoke, both of you completely frozen in place.

Aemond noticed the way you looked at his nephew. Your eyes was softer than they were when they were focused on him, your gaze usually cold and callous, unable to show any vulnerability in front of him. When you looked at Jacaerys, your features relaxed so much, you nearly cried. It bothered Aemond. He did not realize how much you truly resented him until he saw how you gazed upon someone you did not resent.

“W-“ you choked. You were nearly crying from overwhelming disbelief, and a lack of trust at the situation, “what are you doing here?”

“I had to see you,” Jacaerys said, moving his feet toward you in desperation to touch you, “I had to know you were alright.”

Jacaerys took your hands in his own. His voice dropped, low and soft enough to signify his words were only meant for your ears, not Aemond’s, “and I missed you.”

A few tears fell from your eyes as you disconnecting your hands, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pulled him close. Jace’s hands wrapped around your waist, holding you tightly as he pulled you as close to him as he could. Your bodies melted together, the comfort of one another consuming you until your eyes blinked open and you saw Aemond, the sudden reminder that you were not alone, and you were not as safe as you felt in Jacaerys’s arms.

You pulled away from the hug, turning away from Jacaerys and taking a seat in front of the fireplace. Despite the early hour, the fire was lit, the dancing of the flames the only entertainment and stimulation for you during your days.

Jacaerys followed you, kneeling down on the floor in front of you. “Are you okay?” he counciled.

You discreetly gestured toward the door, reminding him that Aemond was present, and therefore you had to act differently than you would if you were alone.

“He insisted on supervision,” Jacaerys explained, disappointment in his voice.

“Nothing more pressing to attend to?” you called toward the door, turning slightly so Aemond knew the question was meant for him.

“You know I like to keep an eye on you,” Aemond responded, referencing him escorting you at night, hoping the mystery of his words would bother Jacaerys.

Jacaerys took a sharp breath. “I want you to come back with me.”

Your eyes widened. “I do not wish to remain here, Jace, but Vhagar is capable of melting much more snow.”

You could both hear Aemond snicker behind you, but neither acknowledged it.

“If you stay here, I fear they can force your hand,” Jacaerys pleaded.

“They have already forced my hand,” your voice broke, fighting any sadness or tears in your confession.

“You have promised yourself to me,” Jacaerys whispered, hoping Aemond was not intent on listening, whispering almost inaudibly “or did you not mean your written words? I will not allow them to force you to abandon me.”

There was no volume low enough to avoid Aemond’s impeccable hearing, especially when he was determined to hear every word his nephew spoke. Aemond stomped over in a rage.

“You what?” Aemond snarled, eye focused on you.

“What?” you responded, playing dumb with a confidence that had him almost believing you.

“I trusted you,” Aemond was furious, “I trusted you to do the right thing, and instead you sent a raven saying you intend to honor your betrothal to him? Did we not have an understanding?”

Despite his anger, Aemond mostly felt betrayed. He thought there was an unspoken understanding of trust between you two, and he was jealous of your affections toward Jacaerys.

“Have I given you any reason to relinquish your trust in me?” you combatted.

“Do you think me a fool?” Aemond spat, “I heard your little catch-up.”

You stood, Jacaerys following suit and standing guard next to you as you began to raise your voice at Aemond. “What did you expect of me? You hold me captive, begin to burn my house, force my hand in marriage, confine me each and every day, and only let me free to pursue your own exploits. Did you think me growing affectionate toward you for simply unlocking a door that I do not deserve to have locked? You and your brother have been nothing but cruel. The only kind thing you’ve done for me in my time here is allow me to see Jacaerys, and I am sure you have your own reasons for such things. You should not dare take issue with me, Aemond.”

“Our agreement, lest you forget, included you renouncing him and acknowledging your betrothal to me. You did not follow through, and therefore there is no understanding between us anymore. I’m sure you will find the dungeons quite comfortable.”

“Try as you will, you are simply mad that she cannot be controlled,” Jacaerys defended you. He knew you didn’t need it, but he would try regardless.

“Mind your tongue.”

Jacaerys unsheathed his sword, pointing the tip at Aemond. The room stilled for a moment.

Aemond made a swift move to mimic Jacaerys’s actions, the two men armed, your body the only thing between them.

You desperately wished you had some sort of weaponry as defense. You always wanted to learn the skills of the sword, but the men of the Watch never let you participate, only allowing you to spectate.

“Do it,” Aemond taunted.

“You do not have the authority to banish someone to the dungeons, for you are not the King,” Jacaerys matched his tone.

“Strike me, nephew. If you truly dare.”

“Would you both please sheath your weapons? Aemond, I am nothing more than your prisoner. The dungeons cannot hold my temper the very same way this room cannot.”

“Then you shall not mind the change of scenery.”

“You underestimate me,” you threatened.

“You underestimate us both,” Jacaerys huffed in anger.

“Well well well, I see this is going well,” Aegon smiled, strutting into the room, “I expected nothing less.”

“She must be taken to the dungeons, brother,” Aemond informed.

“I told you as such upon my arrival,” you reminded them.

Aegon approached you. “Shall we?”

“I would hope you know me better than to simply go at will.”

Aegon called the King’s Guard stationed by his side at all times to enter the room, four different men swarming you and holding your arms behind your back. Jacaerys dropped his sword down, looking for any entrance to help you, but found none. You jumped and kicked and clawed, adamant on not going down without a fight. You elbowed one of the men straight in his nose, blood rushing down his mouth and chin as he stumbled backward at the sudden pain. You took the opportunity to twist the arm he was holding back in front of you, punching the man directly in front of you. As your fist approached his face, Aemond caught your wrist, gripping tightly as he shoved the arm behind your back again, his other hand occupied with the sword that was now at your throat.

You remained cautiously still, but refused to show any sense of fear.

“Do it,” you spat, “it would be a great relief from spending the rest of my days with the likes of you.”

The blade pressed harder into your neck. Jacaerys stopped closer to you, but Aemond shot him a look. Jacaerys raised his sword again, the tip facing Aemond again. “Drop it.”

“Make me,” Aemond replied.

Aemond shoved his body into your side, nearly making you fall as you stumbled closer to the door, the men of the Guard seizing the opportunity to walk you out of the room and toward the dungeons, Aemond keeping his hand around your wrist.

Jacaerys and Aegon were left alone in your (now previous) chambers, the sun beginning to fade from the windows.

“You may take your leave now,” Aegon said.

“You do not expect me to just leave when you’ve impriso-“

“Take your leave.”

Jacaerys sighed. He needed more strength, more dragonfire, more support. He knew his talents, but he knew himself not capable of defeating both of his uncles on his own. He hated Aemond, but he would be a fool to not admit Aemond’s capabilities when wielding a blade.

Jacaerys stomped out of the room, ignoring anyone in his path as he marched back to Vermax.

✶

When you were placed in your cell, the men immediately locked the door and left, leaving you trapped with Aemond peeking into your cell as if you were a caged animal.

“Feel safer, do you?” you taunted, “is a woman truly so much of a threat to the one-eyed prince?”

“You are here by your own volition,” Aemond told you, “it did not have to come to this.”

“I could have spoken those words to you the moment you commanded Vhagar upon my home.”

Aegon dropped his head. “What will it take for you to not be so combative?”

“I will never stop being combative, especially so long as you treat me like this.”

“I would not have to treat you like this if you stopped acting like this.”

You began to raise your voice. There was no point in holding back now. “This started when you decided to announce a betrothal to the realm that I did not consent to! I had no reason to ever know you until your idiot brother saw no other way to secure an alliance in the North but to strip me of my right to choose a proper husband! I never wanted any part of your war, Aemond, and now you are punishing me for it.”

Aemond slammed his hands against the cell door, the metal violently banging and clashing. “I have never, in all my years-“

“That’s enough,” Aegon interrupted, “leave us, will you brother?”

Aemond desperately needed to calm down, his breathing erratic, his cheeks red. “I was in the middle of-“

“Leave us.”

Aegon was serious now, glaring at his brother until he was out of sight.

“You stupid fucking whore,” he spat at you, “it was my brother’s own fault for trusting you.”

“You’re the one who allowed Jacaerys to come here, are you not? I had no part in such.”

“Did you not request his presence? In your special little letter to your prince?”

You gave him a confused look. “You believe I told him to ask for such things?”

“I would not trust if you denied it, so do not even bother,” Aegon sighed, taking a seat on a guard stool a few feet away, resting his elbows on his knees as he clasped his hands together.

“So what is your plan? To keep me captive forever? To only let me out on my wedding night and force me to carry your brother’s seed? To hope that I die in child birth and allow your men to find my newborn crying on this floor?”

“What do you expect me to do with you? I need your house on my side.”

“I’d rather you have asked nicely, to speak plainly.”

“And you would have bent the knee if I had?” Aegon questioned.

“Absolutely not.”

“So you see why I must resort to force.”

“Did you ever question whether or not you are deserving of my House’s allegiance? Do you truly think yourself worthy of any noble house’s support? You resort to pain and force and threats, but never bargain with any Lord or Lady for how their allegiance to you may benefit them. You are not fit to be a king.”

“I am!” Aegon yelled, shooting upward and approaching your cell door, “I am fit to rule, and I am ruling! You shall wish your brother bends the knee to me. You will be terrible collateral damage should he not.”

“You have imprisoned me in your dungeon, Aegon, is that not damage enough for you?”

“Winterfell has not yet raised my banner.”

“Winterfell will never raise your banner,” you stated.

“We shall see.”

“You will not see,” you fought back, “my brother is much too smart to bend the knee to you. He knows me capable of caring for myself, even with your constant bitching and bombardment.”

Aegon sighed. He put his face as close to you as the bars would allow him. “I have never loathed another as much as I loathe you.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

Aegon stomped away up the stairs and out of your sight, leaving you abandoned in your prison cell. You began to scan the room, looking for any way to escape. No windows, makes sense. Solitary, no one else around, not that they could be much help. The lock can be picked, but there’s nothing here I can use to unlock it. They would not be so stupid as to leave something that I could use to-

As the thought crossed your head, your hands clasped your stomach, and you felt the multitude of adornments on your gown. The King and his brother had made one grave mistake: they locked you up in one of the finest gowns you had ever worn, which included a Targaryen house symbol pin sewn into the center of the navel area fabric.

A pin.

────── ☾ ──────

tags: @torchbearerkyle @dracaryxzs @hangmanscoming @callsignwidow @velvetcrowbarcherry @kravitzwhore @darlingisntit @not-neverland06 @albionfay @cluz1babe @flusteredmoonn @sab-falco

[gracexthoughts]

the strong

jacaerys velaryon x targaryen!oc

warnings; slight canon divergence, cussing, canon typical incest, fighting, implied smut at the end (i cannot actually write smut to save my life sorry), s1ep8 spoilers ig summary; after vaemond's petition, aegon’s jesting, and aemond’s taunts, jacaerys is furious and seeks solace and advice from his step-sister and betrothed. inspired by tyrion telling jon to wear his bastardy “like armor so it can never be used to hurt'' him in the first ep of GOT (I’ve been rewatching to feed the brainrot) a/n; daenera is daemon’s eldest daughter from his first marriage, in my head daemon didn’t kill rhea and she died in childbirth just before rhaenyra’s wedding so daeny is about half a year older than jace but you can use your imagination as it doesn’t really matter.

“I dare you to say that again!” Jacaerys growls from the dancefloor. Daenera turns in her seat to see Jacaerys with his fists clenched, his eyes dark and glaring daggers at his uncle. The feast had been amicable considering the events of the day, but while the adults’ words of peace ring honest between them, animosity between the young princes, princess and ladies nears its boiling point. Prince Aegon has spent most of the evening cooing foul and crude jests to Jacaerys and Daenera about their soon approaching wedding. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Prince Aemond has added his own taunt to the pile: a thinly veiled comment on the Velaryon brothers' true parentage. 

“Why? Twas only a compliment,” Aemond defends, lowering his goblet to face Jacaerys, stepping towards him as he does. “Do you not think yourself Strong?” Jacaerys answers by bringing his fist up to Aemond’s jaw, the sound resonating through the hall. Lucerys leaps up from his seat, Vaemond’s slanders still heavy in his ears, but Aegon intercepts him, slamming him down on the table and sending food and silverware clattering from the impact. Daenera, ever protective of her siblings, leaps from her seat and wraps her arms around the eldest prince’s neck, putting all her weight against him to remove his hands from Lucerys. He grapples with her for a moment before she is ripped off by a Kingsguard. Knights separate Aegon from Luceryrs, Jacaerys from Aemond, and Rhaena pushes Baela back from leaping into the fray as well.

The Queen pulls her second son back, muttering angrily to him but he pulls away from her as Rhaenyra moves towards her sons and Daemon to his daughters. “I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family. Though it seems my nephews aren’t so proud of theirs!” Aemond continues to taunt, leveling a snide one-eyed glare at Jace. Jacaerys wriggles out of the guard’s grip and steps menacingly towards Aemond. 

“Wait, wait,” Daemon says, holding a finger up and stopping Jacaerys in his tracks, forcing him back to stand next to Daenera. 

“Go to your quarters, all of you. Go now!” Rhaenyra commands sternly, her eyes holding a warning as she stares down her eldest son and motions for the rest of her children, by blood and by marriage, to leave. 

“Come on,” Rhaena says softly, pulling her sisters along with her and out of the hall by their hands. Daenera relents with a sigh but not before squeezing Jacaerys’ and flashing him a sympathetic smile. 

“Are you alright, Daeny?” Baela asks as they make their way to their rooms.

“Fine, worried about the boys,” she mutters in reply.

“I’m sure Jace and Luke are alright, sister,” Rhaena says softly, wrapping her hand around Daeny and Baela’s arms. Daenera nods agreeing but still can’t shake the worry in her chest.

Near an hour later, a knock sounds on the door to Daenera’s chambers, pulling her from the depths of the book in her hands. “Come in!” she calls expecting one of her maids and, not bothering to stand from her comfortable position on the settee in front of the fire, turns to see who enters. “Jace,” the lady says softly as her betrothed steps into her chambers, his eyes still dark with rage. 

The pair have been betrothed for nearly ten years, the announcement made soon after their parents married, and as they grew up together they have grown a deep love for each other: a bond of unconditional trust and adoration between the future King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Jacaerys comes to crouch in front of her, placing his hands on her knees and caressing the joint over the silk of her night gown. His tunic is gone, leaving him in just his white undershirt and trousers, Daenera’s eyes trail to the bit of collarbone she can from her vantage point. 

“Are you alright? Did Aegon hurt you?” the prince asks, searching her deep purple eyes that snap back to his face at his words. 

“I’m fine, Jace. If I can match you in a spar, I can handle myself against that drunken lecher,” she chuckles slightly, setting her book aside and reaching up to brush a stray curl away from his brow. “Are you alright?” She asks, reaching for his hand with its already darkening skin. She’d let her hair down to hang around her shoulders and even clouded by anger as his mind is, Jacaerys notices her etherealness. She has always been a sharp and unsettling kind of beauty, her eyes seeming to have the ability to gaze upon your soul, but Jacaerys relishes her softer side. The side she so rarely shows others.

“Wish I’d gotten more blows in,” he grumbles, standing and pacing in front of the hearth, his shoulders tight and face scrunched in anger. 

“Maybe you’ll have a chance before we return to Dragonstone,” she offers with a smirk. “The cunts deserve it, the pair of them.” 

“Will I never be free of this? Of these slanders that are whispered in my wake? Will they sneer at me when I sit on the throne? Ignore my rulings and snicker-” 

“Jace, breathe,” Daenera pleads, concerned with the rising panic she sees in his eyes. 

“I cannot, Daeny!” the prince exclaims, “How am I meant to be a King, a leader, when I am not respected?” 

“Darling, we are barely eight and ten, you are second in line at present. Respect will come with time. Once your mother is Queen the people will become familiar with you, with your grace, your kindness, your justness,” she says, placatingly, reaching out for his hand, forcing him to stop his pacing and look at her. “They will forget the slanders the Hightowers murmur because you will be a good and just King. Besides, it's your mother’s blood that makes you royal, not your father’s.” 

“And yet there will always be those who call me a Strong. The King cannot take every single one of their tongues,” he says with a heavy sigh, running a ringed hand through his hair in distress. Daenera considers this for a moment, knowing it is true enough, and Jacaerys sighs, turning to face the hearth, planting his hands on the stone and gazing down into the flames. 

“So make it a compliment,” the lady says after a long moment, leaning back on her arm on the settee, her deep amethyst eyes watching the prince. 

“Make the doubt of my paternity a compliment?” Jacaerys scoffs, turning to her. “How in the Seven Hells-” 

“If they shall call you ‘Strong’ no matter what, the more you rage against it the more power the slight has. The only way to take away its power is to show it cannot be used to hurt or diminish you. Take it as your moniker and wear it like armor so all know tis not a weapon they can wield against you.” 

“Jacaerys the Strong?” he asks slowly, the wheels turning behind his eyes, unable to deny the intelligence of her council. He sits down slowly next to Daenera, his eyes fixed on a point on the rug.

“King Jacaerys the Strong, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm,” she purrs, leaning towards the prince, a smirk on her lips. She watches as a firelight dances in his eyes, his pupils dilating at her proximity. 

“Hm, not bad,” he smiles, and leans down, connecting his brow with Daeny’s, running a finger calloused from years of practice with a blade across her jaw. 

“What is it?” Daenera asks softly after a moment, pulling away to look into Jace’s eyes, sensing he is still feeling troubled. 

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, not meeting her eyes. 

“Jacaerys,” she chides, cupping his face in her hands and forcing him to look at her. 

“Just… fucking Aegon… I fear he is right in his jests. I have no idea how to please you as you deserve,” Jacaerys confesses shyly, pulling his face from Daeny’s hands as heat creeps into his face. 

Daeny cannot help the laugh that escapes her lips, of all the troublesome worries that the day has brought, her sweet betrothed worries of her pleasure. Sex is not something the pair have discussed in length yet, even though their wedding is a little more than a moon away. The pair tend to flit around such topics, even when they steal secret kisses in dark corners of Dragonstone and come away with scarlet cheeks and racing hearts. 

“And now even you laugh at me!” He exclaims exasperatedly and stands to move away but Daenera quickly stands as well, stepping in front of him and stopping him from leaving. She pushes him back to his seat and kneels before him, her hands on his shoulders. 

“No, my love, I’m not laughing at you, I’m sorry. Tis just that you should not concern yourself with such worries,” she says gently, running her hand from his broad shoulder to the toned expanse of his chest, feeling his heart beating under his skin. 

“But I-” 

“I have no more knowledge on how to please a man than you do a woman, Jace,” she continues, her voice placating and soft. “We shall learn together and be stronger and better for it.” Jacaerys meets her amethyst eyes, finding comfort in the truth and lack of judgment he finds in them. “Besides, I cannot believe that Aegon knows any more than you do. He has never had any care for anything besides his own pleasures and you heard poor Helaena’s toast. He targets you because he knows you are more generous and loving than he could ever hope to be.”  Jacaerys chuckles at this, knowing she speaks true of his uncle and melts into her touch at last. 

“You truly do not care?” He asks, toying with the ends of her silver hair that brushes against his knee. 

“Shall I prove it to you, my prince?” she purrs, a teasing mischief in her eyes as she runs a hand up his chest to the nape of his neck, pulling him down to meet her lips in a kiss. He sighs into her embrace, his hands finding purchase on her waist as he deepens the kiss, his tongue darting between her lips. Realizing she is still kneeling on the floor in front of the settee, he grips her hips tightly and pulls her to straddle him, pulling a gasp from her lips which eggs the prince on. Jacaerys’ hands brush through Daeny’s hair, pushing it away from her face, and trail down her back to explore her figure; Daenera weaves one hand through his hair, tugging slightly at the roots and eliciting a groan she feels through her other hand which rests on his chest. 

Without warning, Jace stands and without breaking their kiss carries Daeny with him as he makes his way to the bed, resting her gently on the linen sheets and covering her smaller body with his. All his insecurities and rage momentarily forgotten as he loses himself in her, the only girl he has ever had eyes for, and proves to her, and to himself, just how strong a lover he can be.

[daemontargaryenwhore]

The fact that syrax is looking for arrax too

Two grieving mothers looking for their babies :(((

[valaenatargaryensdragon]

Jacerys Valeryon Masterlist

To join my Taglist

Kinktober 2023

Requests: Open

Jacerys Valeryon: Daena Waters

Aesthetic:

Daena Waters aesthetic 2 3

One Shots:

Shhh No One Has to Know

I’ve Got You

My King

Targaryen Hearts Entwined: The Princess and The Pauper

Series:

Lone Wolf:

Part One: Wolf Meeting Dragon

Requests:

ONE

[crownedtargaryen]

cruel summer. - modern!jacaerys

Part 1 ; Part 2 ; Part 3 ; Part 4 ; Part 5 pairing: modern!jacaerys x modern!stark reader (a/n): this part includes sensitive topics. please, PLEASE read the trigger warnings below. as a SA victim, this is not to romanticize such things. TW: attempted rape, blood, sexual assault rating: NSFW 18+, this chapter holds sensitive. prns: she/her all notes are appreciated. words: 1.7k tag list: @hopelesswritergall @twizzy123 @howyouloveyourdragon @daenerysapologist @fairysluna

It's been a few hours since my encounter with Jacaerys and I'll admit, I've missed those corny jokes. He's annoying at the moment, but I seek his company now. I walk to my brother, Cregan, who prepares dinner for me and my siblings.

"Hey Creg," I start sweetly, seeing him look at me and smirk slightly. He knows I'm about to ask for something, he always knows. I move up next to him and look at the meal he's preparing. "Looks good!" "Stop tryna' sweet talk me, what's up?" Cregan says, cocking a brow at me. I feel anxious, knowing he might say no.

"You know Jacaerys Velaryon…" I start, seeing his expression contort into something I can't place. He nods in response, increasing my anxiety. "Could I have his number?"

He pauses for a moment, considering, then sighs heavily. "Why? You don't like him, do you?" He takes the food off the stove, leaning his side against the counter and crossing his arms. "You've gotta be careful about guys like that. I know him better than anyone. He has girls flocking to him by the second. He'll play you like a pawn in some filthy game. I don't want that for you." He grabs his phone despite his words, letting me consider as he finds Jace's contact. Cregan and Jace are close friends from being on the hockey team together, so I trust his judgment. Being co-captains develops a bond that might let you discover some darker sides of each other.

"Trust me, I have no interest in him. It has to do with tutoring," I lied through my teeth, smiling uncomfortably. Now, it was a half-truth! I don't have an interest, but I also want to get closer. It has nothing to do with tutoring him since he won't give me the chance to teach him a damn thing. Cretan examines my expression before handing me his phone with Jace's contact open. I can't help but smile at the contact photo.

It was when Jace let his hair grow out, his curled hair down his shoulders. He posed all pretty with his leg up and batting his eyes with his jersey on. I quickly enter the contact and hand Cregan back his phone, moving over and giving him a gentle kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, Creg. It means a lot. You're the best!" I affirm, patting his shoulder as he rolls his eyes and chuckles. I scramble off, entering my bedroom and texting Jace.

(Y/N): hey it's (Y/N)! I was wondering if you were still up for a hangout? :)

I was shocked by the response time. My phone vibrates in a matter of minutes.

Jacaerys 😐: Yeah. I have a party I was invited to. Sound good?

(Y/N): who's gonna be there?

Jacaerys 😐: Idfk it's a high school party, do you really expect me to know everyone who's showing up?

Well damn, okay asshole.

(Y/N): yes, I do. I expect a list of first names, last names, parents' phone numbers, and their ages before you pick me up 🤨

Jacaerys 😐: Are you going or not.

(Y/N): what time?

I try to figure out when we'll be heading out, mostly because I want to look presentable. Maybe I'll find someone at the party who is interested in me, who knows? He told me he could pick me up in an hour or so. The sun has already set, so I can only assume we'll be out for a while. I text him the okay and get myself ready for a night that changed my whole perspective on Jacaerys Velaryon.

He pulls up across the street in my neighbor's parking lot, not wanting to seem obvious. I'd never snuck out before, nor planned to. Surely my brother wouldn't mind, he parties all the time! But maybe he'd be hesitant to let me spend time with his best friend. He almost didn't give me his number. I could only imagine how he'd react if I told him I was actively seeking to hang out with him.

Without a second thought, I slip out of my window, closing it and glancing at Cregan's window. The light is off, I can only assume he called it a night early. I rush across the street, trying to keep my head ducked in case he looks out his window and sees me. I quickly open the car door, slip into the passenger side, and slam the door. Jace looks at me in surprise for a moment before bursting into laughter at my anxiety.

"Jeez, you're terrible at this!" He playfully nudged me, causing me to roll my eyes as he pulled out of the driveway and headed toward the party. I check my phone, my leg bouncing as I fumble loosely with my shirt. I feel his eyes glancing at me, worsening my frustrations. "You look beautiful," he suddenly says. I look at him, my brows furrowed. Looking ahead, he has a cheeky grin on his face. "I mean, seriously. You'll have guys all over you."

"Speaking from what you wanna do?" I suddenly say, trying to distract myself from my overwhelming fear that Cregan will message me at any moment. I notice his hesitance to answer and the growing color on his cheeks that I can barely see in the limited light. "Maybe? So what?" He replied, making me laugh. I didn't take him seriously. I know he wouldn't want that. Would he? I sigh heavily and comfortable silence falls over us. Jace turns on a song to fill the quiet space.

We park on the side of the street, music muffled from behind closed windows and doors. It's a Lannister party. I look up at the looming building. I swear it's four floors high. Jace gently takes my hand and walks me inside, obviously impatient and ready to have fun. A few people cheer as Jace walks in. He laughs and greets them, letting go of my hand and leaving me alone. I can't help but feel disappointed watching him talk to different girls and his friends. I sigh and head to the drink table, downing two shots.

"Woah there, Tiger, watch yourself," a voice calls out, revealing Aegon Targaryen. I hadn't interacted with him since middle school when he was head over heels for me. He'd cheated on me, but I hadn't held a grudge. It was middle school. We were all imbeciles unaware of romance. He seems to be getting there, his words only slightly slurred as he smiles flirtatiously at me. I return the smile, except it's awkward. He doesn't seem to notice, offering me a drink which I take. "Aegon! How've you been?" I ask, trying to make a polite conversation. He sighs heavily, brows raised, then chugging his drink with a small laugh. That told me everything, and I felt pity for him. His home life has always been challenging, so I give him the benefit of the doubt in most situations.

I feel myself growing tipsy as Aegon continues idle chitchat. Mostly conversed about life and relationships, and even asked me if I'm interested in smoking some weed with him. I politely decline, scanning the crowd for Jace. The more I drink, the more I feel myself becoming scatterbrained and drunk, and the faces of those around me look all the same. The blaring music triggers a headache and I continue to drink.

Then, before I know it, Aegon has his hand in mine and says words I can't understand. I giggle at him, assuming he said something playful. Then, his hands are on my waist and pulling me close. I grow uncomfortable as he grinds his hips to mine. I push him away a little, but he grows aggressive and starts gripping me tighter. He whispers words that will stick with me forever.

"You love me, admit it. There's nothing I want more than you. You're mine tonight."

I feel sick, tears coming to my eyes. I plead with him to stop, but my words are slurred and incoherent. No one around us pays attention as he pulls me toward the bedroom.

Everything happens so fast. One moment I was wrestling with Aegon, crying and trying to beg him to let me go, the next he was on the floor and Jace was in front of me with his hands clenched into his fists.

I watch Aemond emerge from the crowd, looking at his brother's bloodied nose and bruising face on the floor. It blurs together. I watch as they crash to the floor, glass shattering. I see blood, a broken bottle in Jace's hand, and then Aemond bruised and bloodied on the floor. Jace looks at me, his gaze softening as he grabs my hand and pulls me out. He makes sure I have everything. I look at his face, his nose bleeding and cuts on his arms and hands. I feel my sickness surface, pulling me from Jace and vomiting in the front yard. I hear him say something, but I can't hear him over my vomiting. He pulls my hair back, waits until I finish, and then helps me to his car.

I have thrown up on my shirt. I can smell it. Jace gets in the front seat as I lay in the back, whining and curling up. He watches me through the rearview mirror.

We drive for only a bit before he stops his car. I look out the window, seeing we're at a nearby gas station. He turns around, looking at me then unzipping his backpack that's rested on the floorboard of the back seat.

"Jace..?" I whine, and he softly shushes me. I look at his bloodied hands, my eyebrows furrowed.

"You're okay, you're safe. I'm here," he whispers, pulling out his hockey jersey. He hands it to me. "Can you change into this for me?" I stare at him, shaken up and still scared from the party ordeal. "I won't look." He turns away, covering his eyes. Hesitantly, I strip off my shirt and throw his jersey over my torso. I softly murmur his name, and he looks back at me, smiling lovingly at me. The blood on his face has dried up, and I feel guilty. I feel responsible.

"Jace I'm sorry," I slur out, the brunette reaching for my hand and holding it tightly.

"You have no reason to apologize. Let's go back to your house and clean you up. Okay?" He whispers, making my heart clench as tears fall down my cheeks. "I won't let anything happen to you, ever. You're safe."

[iwassupremacy]

I have 10 unfinished drafts and about 9 more requests to get to BUT PLEASE somebody send me some hq requests… I am dying to write for Iwaizumi (!!) or Daichi or any other character to be honest

Also house of the dragon would be extremely appreciated!! I am currently back to binging the first season and in desperate need of writing something for Aemond or Jace

[13keithxpidge13]

Jace is Joffrey's favorite brother and it is so obvious. Wherever Jace goes, Joff goes. He follows his big brother around like a lost puppy, chasing after him even when he goes to train. Joff isn't old enough, being only six years of age but that doesn't stop him from trying to grab a sword and drag it so he can spar with Jace out on the beach (he's been practically dragged away by his mother several times and severely reprimanded but, at least step-father thinks he's funny).

His separation anxiety is no joke either. Every night, without fail, Joffrey will cling to his brother like those koalas he's seen in books and absolutely /refuse/ to let go. He wants to sleep with his bubba, is that so much to ask?! Normally, it takes step-father intervening for Joffrey to actually be forced to let /go/ of Jace but, step-father said he liked the fire in his eyes so he wouldn't be the one to rip them away any further, saying that Jace had to learn how to deal with Joffrey's tantrums himself considering he would one day have children. He also said he liked the chaos it caused.

"Bubba, bubba," Joffrey starts as he does /every/ night and he clings to Jace's leg. "Sleep with you?"

Jacaerys sighs and shakes his head.

"No, buddy," He says softly and brushes his hair. "You gotta sleep in your own bed. You're a big boy, yes?"

"No," Joffrey grins and Jacaerys deflates. He wouldn't fall for that trick again. "Sleep with you, bubba. Let me sleep with you."

Jace sighs once again and reaches down to pick him up. Immediately, Joffrey hums with contentment and rubs against his neck, wrapping his little arms around his big brothers neck and leaning against him.

"Sleep with you," Joffrey sings as Jace grumbles and brings them into his room. "Sleep with bubba."

"Little gremlin," Jace hisses underneath his breath and Joffrey squeals as Jace drops him down on his bed. The younger boy immediately goes to snuggle and nest into his big brother's mattress, dragging all of the blankets and pillows and building a fort-like structure whilst Jacaerys changes into his night clothes.

"C'mere, buddy," Jace says as he walks over to him. "Arms up."

Joff does as he's told and giggles as Jacaerys takes his shirt off before a soft, fuzzy T-shirt is tugged over his head and onto his body.

Jace tilts his head. "Socks or no socks?"

"Socks!" Joff yells and Jace smiles.

"Alright, buddy, socks it is," He says, not bothering to remove Joffrey's socks as he then crawls into his bed beside his youngest brother. "Now, you're going to go to /sleep/, Joff, for real. Else I'm going to have to put you back in your room."

"No!" Joffrey shouts. "No, no. I sleep."

Jace chuckles as he lays down. "I know, you sleep."

Joffrey smiles as he crawls atop his big brother, wrapping himself around him and snuggling against his chest whilst Jacaerys kisses his head of curls and holds him securely, keeping him close.

"Nigh' night, bubba," Joffrey says, eyes fluttering closed as he yawns dramatically.

Jacaerys smiles and brushes his bangs.

"Goodnight, Joff."

[welldonebeca]

The Christmas War (1)

Summary: Rhaenyra invites Harwyn to spend the holidays at Valyria, so he can spend it with their boys. And Laenor. And Daemon.   Now all three of Jace, Luke and Joff's fathers are in a single house, and trying to compete to be the favourite one. It is every man for himself.

If you like my work, consider buying me a coffee or subscribing to my Patreon. It’s just $2 a month and helps a lot while I go through these hard times.

Masterlist

Rhaenyra and Harwyn broke up because of Daemon.

In hindsight, it was obvious it was going to happen.

Laena, his first wife, had died and, after 6 months of grieving, he was back, and suddenly being platonically married to a man while keeping a sexual relationship with another wasn't enough for her. She wanted a full marriage.

On one hand, it wasn't unexpected to Harwyn. She never hid her love for Daemon, in the Targaryen strange way.

On the other... well, they had been in their relationship for, what? Over a decade?

It stung a little.

Then, of course, she told him they were moving to Valyria, so they could get married and wanted to take the three boys with her. Joffrey was just a little baby, he couldn't tear him away from his mother. And Jace and Luke said they wanted to go, so what could he do?

He wasn't even on the birth certificate of the three.

When Jace was born he didn't know he was his, Rhaenyra just said they took after her grandfather.

And then Luke came, and it was obvious but Laenor insisted he was his son too and that he was the one raising them, so why would Harwyn put his name on it?

And he was young and didn't mind. It was less responsibility, he could just be the fun uncle!

Rhaenyra always let him have as much access to them as he could want.

And then Joffrey came along, and why change the system? They even named him after Laenor's long-time boyfriend.

So she left for Valyria and married her uncle, and he was left behind in Westeros.

He started bonding with Laenor after that. They shared three children, after all, why wouldn't they be at least friends?

They visited the boys together for their birthdays - Leanor even paid for his tickets once, when he was in between jobs and couldn't afford it.

He was a very good friend.

Of course, at Valyria, they discovered the boys had acquired another father. A third one.

Daemon.

And their parenting styles... could differ. Sometimes.

Laenor was the comforting kind, always physically affectionate with the boys, a little overprotective sometimes.

Harwyn tried to do his best with the little time he had. There was no time to be a disciplinarian or teach them things.

Daemon expected things from them, the boys.

Harwyn and Laenor had watched Joffrey fall on his ass from trying to ride his bike, exchange a strong look with Daemon, and just get up and do it again.

So yes, between the two countries, Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey had three very different fathers, one stepfather and one mother.

Their Christmas was usually spent in Driftmark, with their grandparents, Laenor and Joffrey - who had gotten married sometime after the divorce -, and Harwyn and Laena's daughters, Baela and Rhaena.

... who were also Daemon's children.

Every year, he would be invited to go spend the last two weeks of the year with the Velaryons and would be the one driving everyone to the airport, where someone would fly with them to Valyria and then back.

Until that year, when Daemon asked for Christmas to be held in Valyria, in their state.

Harwyn was worried about it. Christmas was his time. The boys would already spend Summer with Laenor, and he could only get a couple of days with them at his house once every two weekends because of work, why would he give up on spending the holiday with his sons?

But then the boys asked him, all three of them. And he couldn't say no.

Rhaenyra was nice enough to pay for him to fly business class and to give him a room in her own house, so he could spend as much time with the boys as possible.

She even sent him the list of stuff the boys said they wanted through their year, so he could surprise them - usually, he would ask them directly, but he wouldn't skip on the opportunity of looking like he had guessed their perfect gifts!

So Harwyn was pretty confident about what he was packing when his luggage was taken, and he sat down with Joffrey and Laenor to wait for their plane.

"Checking the tracking?" he sat down, finding Laenor on his phone.

"Nyra said they just got there," he locked the screen. "She's going to put them under the tree."

He hummed positively.

"And your parents?"

"They took the kids to the theatre last night," he unlocked it again, clicking on the gallery. "They just sent me a picture, hold up."

Harwyn leaned onto the phone and smiled when Laenor finally found the photo of Rhaenys and Corlys surrounded by the grandchildren, with 3D glasses and popcorn.

Gods, he missed them.

He sat back on his seat, watching as Laenor set it as his phone screen, and making a mental note that maybe he should try and take a picture with all three so he could do the same. Maybe he could be in the picture too, he barely had photos with them.

Joffrey - the adult one that his son was named after - came back with coffee and bagels, giving Harwyn some before sitting down with Laenor.

"Did you show them the picture with your parents?"

"Yeah," his husband told him, and then showed him his phone. "I made it my screen."

Officially, Harwyn was coming as Laenor's friend. Rumoured third in their relationship. 

It was strange, not being the father of his own children.

As far as he knew, Rhaenyra's whole family accepted the idea that the boys just resembled her mother's father - which they kind of did, if Harwyn wasn't around - so he couldn't quite claim them in public. No custody or sleeping at his house, or anything that would be weird with a friend of the family.

It was his choice, back then. When he sat with Rhaenyra and Laenor, and they talked about Luke and Jace, but now a part of him secretly regretted it.

He was their father, after all.

It was what echoed in his thought as he stared out the window of the plane.

Maybe it was time to start asking for more. More time with them, more acknowledgement.

Legally, he couldn't do much - Laenor certainly would put up a fight and Harwyn would hate to lose the friendship between them - between all three of them, Rhaenyra included - but they had to reach an agreement.

Harwyn wouldn't leave without one.

It sparked something in his mind.

Maybe he could get the boys to ask just as well.

"Hey," he turned to Laenor. "Do you have Rhaenyra's address there? I forgot... a thing. At home." "I'll just get it delivered there."

"Sure," Laenor grabbed his phone. "I'll just text it to you."

He hummed positively, checking the list again.

Rhaenyra had told him to not buy Luke a dirt bike, but he suddenly couldn't find a text of hers saying that.

It was so strange.

And Jace certainly had space for a Tolkien special edition boxed set.

Joff would love some bath crayons and pavement chalk, he could decorate the whole house with them, his little artist.

He added as many gifts as he could realistically pay for - and he could realistically pay for a lot of things - and set them to deliver a couple of days before Christmas.

Harwyn had two whole weeks to show his sons how great of a father he was.

…

“The Christmas War” is being posted on my Patreon two weeks before it comes to Tumblr and AO3! To have early access to all of my works, subscribe to my page! It’s just $2 a month!

. . .

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[phasesofhermoon]

Dance of the Dragonlings

As the bastard daughter of Prince Daemon Targaryen, Rhaelyse Waters must navigate the political scheming and deceit within her family. In the midst of a civil war set to tear House Targaryen apart, Rhaelyse finds her heart torn in three places - between the freedom of muddled blood, her allegiance and admiration for her father, and her love for a prince. Will she choose to side with the Blacks or the Greens?

Eight Chapters are live on Ao3 and Fanfiction.net!

[litchifaerie]

hii! i hope you’re doing well!!

can i get a jace fic where she’s his younger sister and she’s just really dependent on him, and like follows his around and tried to stay w him while he’s really protective of her especially from the greens

pairings: protective!jace x valeryon(strong)!reader

warnings: not quite angst unless the last line. but the tension is there, fluff i suppose, romantic tension, canon typical incest. if anything else let me know, MAJOR SPOILER FOR FIRE & BLOOD/FUTURE HOTD

word count: 1.8k <3

masterlist

a/n: I am sorry i have been tardy with my promise but here is your much awaited request!!

You liked it here. Laying in bed, reading a book of poems while your mother combed through your hair. Rhaenyra always had a soft spot for her only daughter, caving in and allowing every reasonable whim you had. “Mother” you speak slowly, putting the book down and holding it close to your chest. Rhaenyra stops her gentle movement, looking down at you with fondness, “yes my child”?

“Can we stay here in king’s landing for longer?” you ask, “I do not wish to leave grandsire’s side yet. The maesters do not bring news of improvement any longer and I fear….” You trail off not wanting to word it out loud. Rhaenyra knew of the gravity of her father’s health but she feared the wedge between her children and her half siblings will only give rise to new fights and arguments every day.

“You know we can’t my dove”, she pets your head affectionately, “who will look after Dragonstone with us gone?”

“Please”, you request sitting up and turning your back to face her, “I do not want to risk not being here when he passes away and miss my chance at a last good bye.” Even Rhaenyra couldn’t argue with your words. Your request comes from a place of adoration for your grandfather, he was quite fond of his elder granddaughter, but Rhaenyra also contemplated what can go wrong if she isn’t here for her father’s death. No matter the legitimacy of her being named heir to the throne, she is well aware of the whispers at court, the scheming of the hand and the queen. Aegon Targaryen cannot be king if she is here to take control of the situation.

“It’s settled then” Rhaenyra agrees after a beat of silence. “We shall stay here for as long as you desire.” A smile of gratitude makes its way on your face at your mother’s words and you are quick to embrace her “Thank you mother”. Rhaenyra chuckles, rubbing soothing circles on your back “Now rest my dove, it has been a hectic day.” She leans in to kiss your forehead “sweet dreams”.

You make your way beneath the sheets, head resting comfortably on the pillow “Farewell mother”. With one last look at you Rhaenyra steps out of the room. The door closes softly behind her, letting the dim glow from the candles lull you into sleep.

Morning arrives gently, with sunshine streaming through the windows casting a soft glow in your room. The ladies assigned for your care had let themselves in, rousing you from your sleep and ushering you to the bath to get ready for the day.

The baths at King’s Landing were more majestic than back home. You take your time soaking in the warm water with jasmine oil and rose petals, sighing in pleasure. It didn’t take long for you to get dressed with the help of the ladies and having your breakfast alone, opting for some calm in the morning knowing your brothers and uncles will inevitably destroy any sense of peace in the coming hours.

“I’d like to take a stroll through the keep, alone. Much has changed since I’ve been away.” The guard assigned for your duty only nods at your command as you make your way out of the room. The seven-pointed star glares at your face at every turn you make, a stark contrast to the regal décor the keep had in your childhood.

“Sister! Wait!” comes a voice from your right. You stop turning around only to be faced with a panting Jacaerys. “Brother” you greet with a slight smile “You are up early today” you tease. “I was looking for you” says Jacaerys, ignoring your teasing. “I was wondering if you were alright after last night’s events”.

You slightly wince at the memory of Jace throwing a punch at Aemond and Aegon and Luce starting a brawl of their own. Your cousin Baela even tried jumping only for you to grab her by the waist as you yelled for them to stop.

“I’m alright” you dismiss his worries. “It was just a graze”. Aemond’s elbow had hit you in the cheek causing you to yelp in pain. Aemond’s actions did stop midway not expecting you to be so near and get hurt but it only spurred Jace even more as he landed even stronger punches than before at his uncle’s jaw.

Jace gently reaches a hand up to caress your face. “Its good it didn’t bruise” he thumbs at your cheek, “I’d not let it go if that brute ruined your pretty face”. And there it was again. Jace always had a penchant for using certain choice of words which reddened your face.

“Jace” you warn, “Do not fall prey to our uncle’s provoking. You know both of them only say words to rile us up.” Jace let’s go off your face sighing “I can’t help it if they accuse us of…” Accuse us of what? The Truth?

The somber tone in his voice lets you know of his mood dropping. It was only the start of the day and you will be damned if you let your older brother sulk so early. “I’d like to accompany you to your training if that’s alright with you?” Nothing makes him happier than being able to show off his skills to his younger sister and you are well aware of that. Jace is quick to look at you with shining eyes and agrees to your request.

You follow after him as he excitedly tells you of a new method he learnt from Daemon, smiling at his words and nodding when you think its appropriate to let him know you are attentive. Jace liked having your sole attention on him. It was just you and him in the beginning. His mother told him that the first time he saw you when he was a boy of two, you had looked at him as if he hung the moon and the stars in the night sky. Your crying would only stop if your older brother was there to shush you with his toys. You were the happiest baby when in his presence, trailing behind him like a little duckling, a trait which you still carry. Nothing soothes your nerves like being near Jace.

You watch as Jace spars with a squire. A sheen of sweat on his forehead making him look godly in the late morning sun. “I do not think its fit for a lady to be here niece” comes a chilling voice from right behind you, closer than you’d like that voice to be. “Uncle” you greet, your eyes not wavering from Jace at all, “I think I can go wherever I’d like. The Red Keep is my home as well after all.” Aemond smirks at your reply. Out of all the strong bastards you were his favourite to toy with. The boys were quick to throw punches but the ability to sometimes make you unable to come with a witty response brought him immense satisfaction.

“Hmm” he hums, coming to stand by your side, a little too close for comfort, “I hope my elbow didn’t cause you any harm princess. It would be unfortunate to see your brown eyes blacken from my unintentional hit.” Brown eyes. He emphasized it. He is trying to make you take the bait again. And his backhanded words of comfort and presence did unnerve you more than you’d like to admit.

“If you wish to see how real men train perhaps you should watch me instead of your no good of a brother. He moves like a boy who was gifted a sword a day ago” Aemond whispers in your ear. His breath hitting your skin makes your skin crawl and you shiver in disgust, moving back and putting a distance between yourself. “No thank you” you decline politely. “I prefer my brother over all”. Aemond only gives a sly grin at that, “Even in your bed?” he mocks.

What was stopping you from slapping this bastard from even suggesting such nonsense. You grit your teeth in frustration, almost hitting him yourself when a protective arm wraps around your waist bringing you back into a sturdy chest. “Who my sister brings into her bed is none of your concern dearest uncle” Jace says cooly. “And I suggest you refrain from using certain phrases that will bring the honor of my sister into question” he raises his brows at Aemond challenging him. “I’d hate to dislocate your jaw over some misunderstanding, we are family after all.”

One thing Aemond had learned from the beginning was Jace will never lose a chance to be your protective guard dog. He could hit two birds with one stone by simply choosing to pick on you instead. Why rile up one Strong bastard when you can rile up two? “I’d like to see you try” Aemond grins leaning in to challenge your brother.

“Jace” you whisper, “Don’t.” Aemond chuckles at your warning. “Aww will poor Prince Jace listen to his sister like an obedient mutt?” Jace clenches his jaw at his statement. “He isn’t worth it Jace” you interlock your fingers with Jacaerys’s trying to tug him away. Once you are able to move him from his spot, you lead Jace away and turn to Aemond to give him a disgusting sneer “You’re pathetic.”

Aemond's grin widens, his eye gleaming with amusement as he watches you walk away, Jace's hand still in yours. "Run along, little dove," he calls out mockingly, but you don't look back.

As you and Jace walk through the courtyard, the tension slowly eases from his shoulders. "You shouldn't let him get to you," you whisper, glancing up at him with a reassuring smile. "He only seeks to provoke."

Jace nods, but his grip on your waist tightens protectively. "I won't let him hurt you," he promises, his voice low and determined. "Not ever." You squeeze his hand, drawing strength from his presence. "I know, Jace. I know." You kiss his cheek gently hoping to calm him “No one can hurt me with you breathing down my neck” you giggle trying to lighten the mood.

He rests his chin on top of your head. “I won’t let any harm come to you ever. No one can hurt you.” His arms squeeze around your waist.

You always felt restless without Jace, and nothing brought you more comfort than being in his arms. You never have to worry about being safe with your brother around.

But years later when you crumble at the sight of the body of Jacaerys Velaryon with an arrow through his neck, no one is prepared for the wail of anguish that leaves your throat at not having your Jacaerys beside you anymore.

[bucknastysbabe]

I just read all your hotd posts and let me tell you I am OBSESSED!

Wanted to ask if you could potentially write something for cockwarming with Jace please? Maybe not as an modern au but with actual prince Jahaerys Valeryon?

If not that’s totally fine but I would go CRAZY if you would! Absolutely love your work

YES I CAN- I LOVE SOME CUNTY JACAERYS HES PERFEXT AND HUNG. Sorry for the wait hope you like❤️❤️❤️❤️

Dreary - Jace Velaryon x Bar Emmon!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Fluffy fluff, sweet baby boy jace, who has a horse cock, set around 2x02, intimacy hehe, cock warming, Baela is a bad bitch she ALLOWS jace to have his little swordfish gf, rip luke ily baby, anyways pnv!sex, some angst, PREP, also I just know the vibes at dragonstone are rancid I would be pissed

Taglist: @aemondfairy @aemonds-holy-milk @arcielee @elaratyrell @jamespotterismydaddy @lovelykhaleesiii @peachysunrize @starogeorgina @towriteloveontheirarms @zaldritzosrose @simp-aholic @jacevelaryonswife (I just added you bc jace wife)

It was a dreary day on Dragonstone. Which was more often than not. Chilly, fierce winds blowing across the Gullet into the Blackwater. You knew how harsh these winds and storms could be, being born Bar Emmon of Sharp Point.

Something was stagnant around the ancient keep of Dragonstone. Perhaps it was the war beginning to ramp up, the continued grief of Prince Lucerys’ death. Going outdoors was a luxury on the volcanic island, anything to escape the mounting emotions within.

Baela was deep within the keep with Queen Rhaenyra. You were a lady-in-waiting of Princess Baela, but she oft preferred her independence or family. The Targaryen dismissed you to ‘find some rest’.

Walking aimlessly around the fused Valyrian stone, hand dragging upon the cold wall, you entered the library. The smell of books and the usual brimstone filled your nose. Haggard gargoyles and wyverns decorated the walls. A small fire crackled in the fireplace, that in the shape of a dragon’s maw. You’d be lying if you said this place wasn’t strange.

Peering among the old tomes and stacked scrolls, you noticed a familiar tousled head sitting in front of the fire. The Prince Jacaerys, the betrothed of Baela. Even if they seemed better friends than to be married as of late. Baela confessed to you late at night that she didn’t want to fall for him during a time of war.

You’d taken to the Prince meanwhile. Guilt didn’t pool in your gut when the Princess didn’t seem to care. Baela knew about your trysts and caught you kissing him in an alcove. Your lips quirked up at the memory— the gorgeous Princess merely laughed, “I was wondering if you had it in you, Jace.”

Coming close to him, you paused. Jace had been struggling as of late. He was brooding and ridden with grief over Luke. You nervously fingered at your dark blue dress, debating if you should leave him be. He was taking on more of a role in the escalating war.

“My Prince,” came your softened call.

He straightened up, turning to face you over a shoulder. Jace hummed, “Lady Bar Emmon. Are you finding yourself stifled again?” He turned further to get a look at you, brown eyes softening. He looked handsome in his black tunic, fine red dragons woven upon the sleeves.

“Quite stifling today. Winter is coming.”

He laughed softly at that, beckoning you over.

You padded to the chair adjacent, Jacaerys familiar arms pulling you back into his lap. You bit back a yelp, looking at him in shock. His full lips curled up a bit as he murmured, “Winter is coming. I saw it firsthand at the Wall. The Stark in the North himself told me all about it.”

You adjusted to curl more to the side, gently petting his curls, careful not to pull. “That sounds…frightful actually,” came your admittance. Jace looked amused as he replied, “Lord Cregan, I liked him, but he was intense. I do prefer the South, Vermax does. He’s likely all snug in his nest.”

The Dragonmont. You wouldn’t mind a warm nest for a minute. Albeit not at Dragon levels.

You laughed softly, “What about the Eyrie? I suppose it was nicer flying up the Mountains of the Moon. I’ve heard it’s the most beautiful of the Castles.”

Jace’s dark eyes sparkled a little as he teased, “Not as beautiful as Sharp Point my lady.”

You batted his shoulder with a scoff and a frown, “Very funny, a big watch tower and old fortifications. Tell me about the Eyrie!”

He chuckled softly, a hand coming up to cradle your neck, his other arm securing your waist. Jacaerys hummed, “Very well, the home of Lady Jeyne was magnificent. All white marble with blue veins. Seven slim towers, no stables, no smithy’s, but a large granary. You can hear Alyssa’s tears, it’s very soothing.”

You looked on in awe as you imagined the painting come to life with his words. Jace continued as he nuzzled your neck, “Mm- just as gorgeous and crisp on the inside, I slept quite well, and got to see the infamous moon door and sky cells. Very Andal castle, don’t know how they did it.”

You gripped his hair as his plush lips began to press against your neck. “Did Vermax like it?” You asked in a shaky voice. He laughed against your sensitive skin, “Of course, scaring the tribes and eating their goats.” Jacaerys pressed one more kiss before pulling back, his ringed hand cupping your cheek.

“I’m sorry I’ve been…distanced,” he murmured, those damn dark eyes and long lashes piercing your heart. Shushing the Prince you shook your head, firmly stating, “You have been grieving. We all grieve, especially for you and your family. For him.”

You didn’t want to speak his name out loud, the lingering implication made sweet Jace blink and look away. Thumbing away his stray tear you murmured, “I wish I could take that pain from you.” He looked back, croaking as his arms engulfed you.

“I missed you so much.”

You sighed the words back, realigning your hips to face his, straddling the prince. Cupping his cheek once again you closed into his mouth, gentle at first. It felt like years while he was gone. Jacaerys grabbed your hips, pulling you flush as he kissed back, full lips soft and careful.

His length throbbed against your thigh as the kisses deepened, Jace’s hands wandering from your ass to your waist, greedily grabbing any flesh. You moaned into his mouth, Jace filling the space with his tongue, sliding it against your own. The brunette moaned, “Gods I missed you. More than just this.”

You pressed your forehead to him, panting, “I missed you too, love. More than this, as much as I enjoy it too.”

He laughed, nibbling at the hollow of your throat, hands sliding up your skirts to reveal your stockings and bare cunt. Jacaerys groaned again, his cock twitching. He mumbled, “Need to get you ready for me again angel.” You nodded, weakly nodding.

Jacaerys’ cock could easily make you bleed everywhere, especially after months apart. He resumed his attention to your neck, thick fingers sliding down to drift across your slick folds and opening. He teased at your clit, drawing a gasp.

You grabbed his hair and pulled him back, kissing him hard as one finger slid into your cunt, pumping just so before quickly adding another. Jace breathed against your twitching lips, “You’re eager.” He had that cocky lopsided smile, eyes hazy.

He pumped his fingers deeper, curling them as you gasped, “I- ah! Could say the same.” You felt his cock straining his breeches, rubbing against heated flesh. Jace moaned again, fingers stretching and scissoring, adding his third finger.

You mewled a little at the pinch, tucking your face into his warm neck. The prince cooed and drug the heel of his palm against your clit, the other hand rubbing your trembling back in slow circles. His voice was a near whisper as he praised, “You’re alright my love, you’re doing so good, gonna feel so good.”

His pinky slipped in your slippery, stretched cunt now, keeping you open as he eased the four digits in and out as you whimpered, Jacaerys kissing your lips and cheeks, shushing you. He adjusted and curled upwards again, dragging roughly against your sweet spot.

You cried out in the library, Jace using his off hand to pull down your dress, suckling and nibbling at your tits as he spread you impossibly open. He sealed his mouth over your nipple, flicking his tongue, playfully humming.

The discomfort was edging into pleasure quickly as Jacaerys worked your body. Your whimpering had turned to panting, then whining in ecstasy as he stuffed you with his sinful fingers, those pretty swollen lips around your tit. You couldn’t help but shiver and grab his hair, muscles tensing up as you moaned his name.

He groaned, kissing his way across the valley of your tits to latch onto the other, his ever-wandering hand giving your now neglected teat a playful squeeze. His fingers were only moving quicker as your cunt practically drooled all over his hand, the lurid squelching loud. You blushed at the sound, heaving and shivering once more.

He swiped your clit one good time, sending you over the edge with a muffled cry, gushing and spasming from head to toe. He pulled off your nipple to watch in awe, murmuring, “My pretty girl.”

You shook through the remnants of the orgasm, cunt twitchy and sensitive even after Jacaerys eased his fingers out. He was undoing his breeches now, moaning under his breath as you watched him pull out his flushed cock, slathering his wet fingers all over the organ.

The sight drew out a low mewl. Jace’s pretty cock was a sight to be seen. He was blessed by the Father, to say the least. Abnormally large yet otherworldly. Dragon cock or whatever they called it in jest.

You lifted your tired hips, the brunette whimpering a little as he slicked himself up further against you, gasping as he swirled the blunt head around your entrance. Jace moaned, “F-fuck, okay, okay, ready my love?”

You nodded, eyes on his as you began to sink, mouth falling open as the oversensitivity and fullness struck. Jace’s thumbs were on your hips, swirling little circles as you descended. The pair of you gasped and panted wetly into each other’s mouths, eyes watery and intense.

Your ass met his lap, a tremble up your spine from the fullness. Jace pulled you against him, stretching his legs out as he pressed kisses to your jaw and neck. His hands rubbed your back, lulling you into relaxing. Taking a deep breath, you settled atop Jace, your cunt pleasantly full and stretched, throbbing a bit.

“Can we perhaps, sit like this for a bit?” You asked him, holding his cheek. Jace seemed more than fine, running his hands lazily across your back still, petting at your hair. He hummed, “Mhm, yes, that’ll be perfect.”

So the pair of you sat in relative ease, humming and lazing by fire. There wasn’t much of a need to speak, more of a time for comfort and intimacy. Jace rambled a little about how much he cared for you, getting shushed again. He smiled at you, rolling his eyes.

The feeling of your lover’s molten cock was beginning to make you sweat. Jacaerys fared no better, shifting restlessly, hands sliding up to grab your ass. He moaned as you clenched involuntarily, needing more. The brunette whispered, “You want it now love? I want you now.”

Indulging the prince you nodded, moaning, “Yes my prince, it’s time, ngh- gods.”

His head fell back as his hands gripped your waist, thrusting up for the first time. Jace’s moan echoed as he pulled back to fuck up into you again. You gasped and whined as he seemed to stuff your cunt further, hips slapping against your ass.

Jacaerys planted his feet, breathing hard as he began to fuck in earnest, mouth hanging open, lips puffy. You felt him eyeing you, your tits bouncing, your stomach baring the vague outline of his cock deep, deep inside. He grunted and held you tighter, losing himself in your slick core.

He inhaled sharply, stuttering his hips, babbling, “Fuck- you feel- so tight my love.” You were at his mercy, reduced to little whines and tears, he was rubbing everything, the friction rising. You clenched further and further as he forced his cock into you, grunting and groaning. Jace’s heavy balls slapped your ass, just another sound in the cacophony of sex.

You shivered and came first, having to pull yourself off, sharply crying. Jace’s cock was hot against your backside, whining some as he pumped a heavy load on your back and ass. You fell against him again, legs shaky and aching from the splendid pain. He panted, holding you tight.

Jace kissed the crown of your head, the comfortable, loving silence between you two and the crackling fire filling the library again. You’d wash up once you figured you could walk again. Damn, Prince.

[ewanmitchelll]

Imagine Taylor Swift Songs (XV): Enchanted.

Imagine Lord Aemond Targaryen courts you amidst the rumors he’s been linked to Lady Alys Rivers.

Warnings: drama, fluff.

Warnings 2: alternative universe where no civil war happens, notwithstanding the silent rivalry between the Valeryons and the Targaryens.

***

• (I)

There I was again tonight forcing laughter, faking smiles. Same old tired, lonely place, walls of insincerity, shifting eyes and vacancy… Vanished when I saw your face. All I can say is, it was enchanting to meet you…

You are an illegitimate daughter of Lord Daemon Targaryen who was promptly taken by King Viserys to live at the royal court. Because you have the same age of Lord Aemond, one his youngest children, you are raised by their side under the careful gaze of his Queen.

Notwithstanding her enmity to your father, whom you see rarely—especially after his marriage to Lady Laena Velaryon—, she’s grown attached to you, a sentiment you reciprocate.

It could not be otherwise. You are great friends with the Greens and as much as you appreciate the fanciful robes and education, like any other dragon whom you share the blood with, you feel locked up at a cage.

You are there when Helaena reclaims her dragon as well as Aegon and even the Velaryon boys—Jacaerys, Lucerys…—but you and Aemond are the only ones without one to ride. This is perhaps what brings you to him.

“You are very quiet”, Aemond muses one of these days where he and you share a lesson under the same tutor designated by Queen Alicent. “What troubles you, Y/N?”

“I am often quiet, Aemond”, you shrug your shoulders.

“This is not true”, he insists, poking your side until he gets a smile out of your lips.

“It is! You know how introspective I can be.”

“No more than my sister Helaena”, Aemond teases you.

You turn at him, in contemplative state.

“Have you ever wondered what’s the world outside like? What lies beyond these pillars of stones?”

“I have… If I had a dragon to reclaim, this question would have been long answered.”

“I doubt it. We are tied to our families, my dear”, and by that you mean your uncle’s since you resent your father has not given you any short notice.

Seeing it through you, Aemond realizes you two have more in common than he’d judged.

“True, but my path is mine”, he says with conviction.

You smile at him, pleased to find in your cousin a proper companion. Aemond, on his turn, is enchanted to think likewise. A bond has formed.

***

• (II)

Your eyes whispered, "Have we met?". 'Cross the room your silhouette, starts to make its way to me. The playful conversation starts, counter all your quick remarks like passing notes in secrecy…

Aemond is there to encourage you when the situation to reclaim your dragon presents itself. Both of you are in your late teenager days and it has been a while since your favored companion claimed Vhagar, which resulted in a permanent feud with your half-sisters and the Velaryons. Disregarding it such, at their horror, you stood by his side.

And now the one-eyed prince leads you to Dragonstone where a silver dragon awaits, wild and with no rider to claim it.

“There you have it”, you hear him say. “The key to your aimed freedom.”

You turn at him with a glint of mischief in your eyes.

“Oh, Aemond Targaryen. You are the death of me.”

Hands tied behind his back, the composed prince nods his head before chuckling.

“Hardly, my dear. Off you go. No tips. You must do it yourself.”

It’s when your willfulness disappears and Aemond spots fear taking its place. As he takes your side, the silver haired prince seeks to encourage you like you’ve always done to him.

In this quiet twilight where birds are not singing and no other sounds are heard, it feels as if the world holds its breath. You are remembered of the comparisons made between you and your father by malicious courtiers, the look of disdain perceived in Otto Hightower’s gaze due to your station and whom you are related to.

Aemond knows where this reluctance comes from. He watches you, his lingering gaze capturing the lines of concern that form in your eyes when you narrow your gaze at the wild beast that dangerously sets its pace around the abandoned hill where no peasant nor nobleman sets their foot.

His gaze moves to how you chew your bottom lip, how you barely breathe, paralyzed by the insecurity he too was once familiar to. Wind blows against your hair, wildly loose this day. It is as if nature takes hold of your spirit for you clench your jaw.

Aemond smiles to himself.

“Go on, lass! I know you can do it!”

When you turn your head, not minding the mess your hair is, you and the prince exchange a long look, sharing a secretive smile.

A soul recognizes in another. You and him know it, as if a spell has been casted to charm you to him—and, unbeknownst to you, him to you—, that synchrony is not a proper word to describe your bond.

But encouraged by him this is the time to leave your sentiments aside, that now have become evident to you. Ignoring the fear that flashes before the prince’s good eye, you step proudly to the silver dragon with long, pointed tail and shade of dark silver coloring its wings.

The creature is a young adult with yellow flaring eyes that cast a disdain look at you. It takes little time before it reads your intentions. Aemond watches, frozen, as the flying beast throws its head back and spits fire.

“Fuck!”, he curses under his breath, unwilling to admit he could have followed you closely and helped you in mounting the said creature.

“Y/N!”, Aemond yells. “Be careful! Look at its eyes with no fear!”

Without looking back, you respond something he cannot understand. Aemond pales, giving a look at Vhagar, who doesn’t stand too far. The older dragon opens only an eye as if it’s to say “your problem, not mine”, drifting back to sleep leaving Aemond grumbling to himself.

In truth, the elements of riding this young adult dragon are not in your favor. The creature is a product of wildnerness, and only the Gods can tell how on seven hells it appeared there. Thus, away of human care, it would prove difficult to settle easily with anyone who attempted to tame it.

Regardless, you are well versed in draconian studies to be easily frightened off.

“I am my father’s daughter”, you tell yourself.

Twice, the dragon tries to burn you alive. Perceiving you as a threat, this only makes difficult for you to approach.

Aemond, as a watcher, fears for you. He forgets to breathe when seeing you fearlessly facing the silver dragon.

Two steps he gives, decided to rescue you when he is surprised by your confident yells:

“Lykiri, Silverlightning!”

The dragon hesitates at first, however, understanding the command said in Old Valyrian, promptly bows its head.

Aemond smiles widely, proud of you as you climb the dragon you claimed and start to fly.

Indeed, a thought occurs the prince, you are every inch Lord Daemon’s daughter.

***

• (III)

This night is sparkling, don't you let it go. I'm wonderstruck, blushing all the way home. I'll spend forever wondering if you knew. I was enchanted to meet you…

You and Aemond are flying high this night with nothing but the moon and stars as witnesses. In spite of the great difference between their dragons, harmony is felt, synchronized in perfect balance.

“How on earth do you manage to fly dressed on your gown? This is impossible!”, you hear Aemond muse loud.

He smiles at the sight of you throwing your head back and laughing. Nothing warms his heart more than being the cause of the delight he sees sparkling in your eyes.

“A lady always has her tricks and shares them with no one”, you answer him over your shoulder, winking at him.

Under the moon light, your dragon and Aemond’s pair up like two skilled dancers. There, up in the air, liberty is tasted at its highest. Titles are casted aside, privileges forgotten, obligations neglected…

You and him can be yourselves. Simply dragon riders.

Eventually, though, you two must land. Once you do, Aemond insists in helping you going down. As he does, his hands take a little while around your waist.

It’s when you notice how tall he is in comparison to you.

“You look pretty, lady”, he whispers. “I like when your hair is down like this.”

Wind is still blowing, albeit weakly, against your curls, and you are struggling to keep them down. You smile at his words.

“Oh, lord. I fear you are flattering me…”

“This is not a trait I possess, I’m afraid”, he smiles in his own way and you like the view. “You’ve grown to be a very handsome woman, Y/N. Your wit has sharpened as well, and you possess virtues I admire.”

Aemond can tell how his words affect you. The way your eyes go slight wide, the dimples forming in your cheeks, how slowly your lips twist in a smile that brightens your face. His heart races. But something stops him of moving further.

Yet, whatever occupies his thoughts is distracted of the pink that paints your cheeks and how shyly you seek out of his hand.

“You are an expertise in making any lady speechless. I wish I was poet so I could give voice to how I feel about you”, you avoid his gaze, leaving your bluntness with your dragon. “However, I cannot let you go back inside without assuring you that I have no one to hold dearer in my most deep affections than you, my lord.”

You raise your eyes and meet his. Aemond is bewildered by your words, captivated by the depth of your sentiments that these could at least partially transmit even though he sees it in your eyes.

Drowned in them, the prince is dragged to meet your soul. It feels like home. Gravity pulls him to you. He lifts your chin, holding it still and there is a mutual expectation concerning the next steps.

His lips are short distanced of yours, and you can smell his sweet breath. Your eyes linger to his red-ish mouth as his stare into yours. His long, paled and callous hand strokes your cheek and you are transmitted, in turn, the darkness within that paves bad choices and poorly closed wounds.

Nevertheless you remain.

“How sacred is the bond that links us”, he whispers before finally holding your face dear and kisses you fiercely, but slowly.

You gasp in delight at the clash of your lips against his, at the dragon smell of his body that mixed with the scent of yours, at how close, but not seemingly enough, one is with the other.

Every barrier is knocked down as his tongue snakes in your mouth, pairing perfectly with yours, dominating in a sweet, vicious kiss. You fear to lose your breath, thus holding onto him for balance.

As the kiss deepens, your hands grow confident. Soon, your hands move up to his hair, feeling his locks slipping through your fingers as you hold them tight, earning him a sigh.

The danger posed by this unexpected and secret meeting is the fire that might come out of a spark. Aemond feels it in you, thus parting it before he lets it lose within.

When you meet his gaze, there is no need to speak. Even so you need reassurances.

“Will I see you again?”

Aemond takes your hand and there presses a kiss. Only then he answers, when looking into your eyes:

“Yes, my dear Y/Nickname. How can it be otherwise?”

You smile, completely charmed, completely enchanted to be with him.

***

• (IV)

The lingering question kept me up. 2 AM, who do you love? I wonder 'til I'm wide awake and now I'm pacing back and forth. Wishing you were at my door. I'd open up and you would say, "Hey"…

It so appears that Daemon Targaryen has the bad habit of carrying bad omens wherever he goes. A judgement of his enemies that you cannot not think at times.

He barely arrives and all the distrust between him and his brother’s second wife’s family threatens to disrupt in something worse.

Leaving politics aside, though, he does not look very pleased at the thought of you being courted by Lord Aemond.

“I am nothing but the daughter of a whore”, you snap at him when he comes to you and rather leaves clear his opinions on the courtship—and only Gods know by what means he was informed of your liaison with the prince your cousin since neither had made it official. “Is it not what you have always been told? Is it not why I was left under the king’s piety?”

Your father stares at you in complete disbelief. Now residing at Dragonstone, he’s taken as wife Princess Rhaenyra, who’s been acknowledged only recently as the heiress to the Iron Throne.

“These people have been poisoning your ears. I’ve always told my brother about the danger of having you raised here. Do not speak ill of your mother, she was a good woman.”

“This is untrue. The Queen is kind to me and her children are like my family. At least they are far more like brothers and sisters than the ones I have by full blood.”

Daemon strokes his cheek, reclined against the chair he occupies. You two are at his privy bedchambers and though he appears to be relaxed, you know there’s a tempest forming behind his lilac eyes.

“I admit I should have brought you to be raised with Rhaela and Baela, but my brother, the king, took an especial interest in raising you.”

“And I am not being ungrateful about that”, you scoff. “I love my uncle dearly, but you have not been present when I needed most. You cannot tell me who I may or may not get myself involved with…”

“Oh yes, I may”, he interrupts you, to your consternation. “Especially when my good nephew has been spotted at Harrenhal at the company of a woman named Alys Rivers. It appears that he’s taken a special liking to bastards.”

You blush furiously at this amount of informations, but more so when he highlighted your status.

“If I brought you shame, father, you can say so. But do not offend…”

“Since when speaking truths mean offense?”, Daemon loses his patience at last. “All I wanted was to provide you security, girl! But the Hightowers have turned you in a soft young woman who takes as token the poisonous words of a libertine!”

“And do you think you have the morals to exempt yourself of it?” Part of you refuses to believe in him. “Separating myself from you and never writing me a letter to know how I was fairing… Certainly after the incident where Aemond lost an eye contributed to your getting away. But no matter. The King has been a better father than you ever were!”

You have no idea how high your voice was and how hurt you have become through the years. As you storm off, you recollect how, at the day of Lady Laena Velaryon’s burial, you were looked down by the said lady’s mother. You’ve always felt despised for being a natural product of your father with an old flame.

As you rush to the outdoors, you miss Aemond’s going back from wherever he’d been through. He is following Aegon when he spots a shadow of a storm crossing the corridors.

“I wonder what has left Y/N so upset”, the prince thinks out loud.

Aegon chuckles dryly.

“Oh, haven’t you heard? Our dear uncle has come to bring some more scandals. Like always, set to leave a path of troubles.”

“And what he has done now?”, Aemond inquires in between annoyance and interest.

Aegon gives his younger brother a mischievous grin.

“He took as third wife our sister, Rhaenyra.”

*

Aemond watches as you land with Silverlightning. The bond you two formed has strengthened with the time. Your hair, always lose, is a mess by the wind, but today it looks like a veil under which you hide.

You also notice that you dress an old green gown of his mother, which he thinks that matches you fine, reinforcing your delicate features at the same time that leaves to notice the beauty of your curves.

Clearing his throat to dissipate these thoughts, the prince moves to where you stand. Once wind stops howling, he says:

“I’m sorry.”

“What do you feel sorry about?”

“Your father’s latest scandal has been the talk of court.”

You snarl at him.

“Oh, that.”

It occurs Aemond that something else upsets you, which prevents you to look back at him. He lowers his gaze, ashamed for a moment. Silence hangs awkwardly between the two of you until the prince dares to break it.

“You have not been yourself lately and I was not there to watch over you”, he apologizes, trying to short the distance that has been growing between you.

You cast the prince a look and he sees pain in it, which leaves him in tormented.

“My lady, your silence is like a sharp dagger”, he takes your hand and gives it a squeeze.

Part of you wishes to get him answers. Another one refuses it. Where, however, do you stay? You look at this man, your childhood companion who grew to be the only one you love. Once upon a time these nights flying in your dragons, where you were enchanted in sharing this great intimacy with someone like him.

Now you question yourself whether this had been an illusion you fed.

As you open your mouth to finally inquire about the rumors that have been snaking into your mind and forming a nest of paranoia, you are interrupted by the presence of the Queen.

“My children”, she greets you warmly and you smile instantly. Alicent has occupied the left vacancy post of your mother, something which you are thankful for. “We are receiving guests this evening. The king, your father, wishes you to partake the feast. Better get yourselves dressed.”

Aemond pulls a face, but this is the only sign of displeasure he shows, not being a fan of such ceremonies. But before he protests to have a chance to speak with you, the Queen steals you away.

“I understand the presence of your father here might be delicate to you”, she says as you two step away. “Believe me, dear Y/N, it is delicate to me as well. It was a never a secret that I dislike my brother-in-law.”

Somehow the crude honesty in her words makes you chuckle.

“And yet you have welcomed here, my lady, being the mother I was deprived of.”

The Queen smiles fondly at you, stroking your hand gently as you two walk arm-in-arm.

“The children are not blamed for their father’s sins. And you are not sinful by all means, Y/N. I mean to tell you this because I am playing a good effort in receiving him and your siblings here too. Rhaenyra and I, as you know, are good friends. She has yet to meet you properly, but the princess has confided me the wishes of having you living with her and your father at Dragonstone.”

You stop by the corridors at what you heard. In truth, you hold nothing against Princess Rhaenyra as you hardly had some concept against her predecessor, disregarding some prejudices concerning your illegitimacy. However, this is all new.

“I’ve always assumed I was unwanted somehow”, you confide the queen in a whisper.

The Queen turns at you gently and holds your face with a maternal look. She sees your unspoken wounds and makes sure to amend them. Or try to.

“My darling, you are not unwanted. Do not think yourself as such. You are a dragon, the king ensured to legitimate you for this purpose. You are a great dragon rider. I have heard Aemond telling many good things of you to Aegon”, she smiles widely when spotting a blush creeping on your cheeks.

“Mother…”

“You are loved here. And whatever decision you make…”

“I am staying with you”, you tell her. “I need no other family.”

The Queen beams at you. She places a kiss over your forehead before saying:

“I appreciate my darling. But even so I must insist in that you should tell this decision to your father.”

You find strange that the Queen is playing the peacemaker with her enemy, but this is part of the queenship, so you should not be entirely surprised. Later that day, you two speak no more of it, and you are momentarily distracted of your current issues.

***

• (V)

This is me praying that. This was the very first page not where the story line ends. My thoughts will echo your name, until I see you again. These are the words I held back, as I was leaving too soon. I was enchanted to meet you. Please don't be in love with someone else. Please don't have somebody waiting on you…

You are taking a moment by yourself when your father approaches.

“We didn’t start well”, says he, watching as you stand and look at him, surprised to find him there. “I always thought my brother, the king, had stolen you from me. He said I was unfit to look after you, my child. This does not excuse my poor choices, but somehow I wanted the best for you.”

You tilt your head, weighing the words he said. Considering what you know regarding his behavior, you find no lies. Nonetheless, you’ve been in a distrustful mood, considering the whole Aemond’s possibly affair with a lady named Alys Rivers.

“I was raised here. The king and the queen were very good to me”, you find sensible to omit Otto Hightower’s despise.

Daemon studies you. Though calmer you may be, he can still see you like a mirror. The looks, the snarks, the self defense… Every inch like him.

“We can still amend it. The princess would like to spend more time with you. Your sisters likewise.”

You scoff.

“Baela and Rhaena don’t speak to me since I stood for Aemond many years ago.”

“Not the wisest move, but I am hardly a model for anything of the sort.” He snorts. “There is still time to consider… Y/N.”

Daemon watches as you merely nod your head, moving to Silverlightening. He side smirks as you ride graciously, dressed in silk. At times he’s remembered of the woman he first loved, your mother. These are the times he wishes to go back in past and be a more decent man.

But this Targaryen rogue has few—if any—regrets to collect. Even so, as you fly, he knows he will have you back. All he needs is the precious thing he lost: time.

*

Aemond finds you this evening, anxious to resolve all that has to be resolved. He couldn’t find you all day, frustrated for having you removed out of his sight—but never out of his mind.

“Y/N!”, he cries your name out the moment you land with Silverlightening.

You freeze as your Achilles heal comes at you. Aemond has grown to a fine, good looking man who, despite his bad reputation, has been nothing but kind to you, protective and more.

“I fear that I’m losing you”, he doesn’t wait to formalities. “I understand it has reached you the rumors about me and a woman named Alys Rivers.”

Aemond can tell there is much to be said, but none of it reaches your tongue. Nonetheless, he must clear once for all before it’s too late.

“She was once my mistress, I will not deny that”, says he, pained as you flinch quietly. “But this is no more. I am yours, and yours alone. I was never besotted with a woman like her…Her name hardly ever occupied my thoughts.”

You will not deny yourself that for a while you wished he never loved anyone else, that you secretly prayed that no one would be waiting for him as you two danced with your dragons in the night.

But now you are confused.

“What are you telling me, Aemond?”

“I fucking love you, Y/N Targaryen!”

That being said, he takes your face with his long hands and kisses your lips intently so, fearful of letting you slip through his fingertips.

“Oh Aemond”, you sigh in content, a smile set on your face dispersing every fear, every insecurity.

Red is his face. Aemond is usually careful, mindful of his sentiments, which are normally on check. Hardly the one prompted to impulsiveness, to be ruled by his passions—he is the epithet of lucidity amidst his siblings.

Where reason doesn’t see, though, a deep ocean of feelings is felt. And you gleefully dive in as you pull him back to kiss his lips.

“I was always enchanted to be with you”, he whispers, his lips inch away from yours, forehead resting against yours, eyes closed. “I was a fool for never making my feelings clear.”

“Better late than ever”, you smile at him in great contentment. “All is well that ends well with you.”

As he locks fingers with you, there lies the certainty of never letting you go.

“Be my wife”, Aemond murmurs and you are amused by his demanding tone.

“You are not asking”, you giggle.

“No.”

“Of course not. If you vow to me that you are not going back with this woman.”

It’s Aemond who laughs now.

“Clearly not, Y/N. If I shall take the love of my existence as consort, then I best offer you what’s the best of me…”

You throw your hands around his neck.

“Then you better take me away and make me your wife, Aemond Targaryen.”

***

• Epilogue. (Perpetual peace)

With Rhaenyra crowned Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, relations between the Targaryens have altered significantly.

One of which concerns how you and your father managed to overcome obstacles in your relationship thanks to the mediation of the new Queen, who also consented in having you married to Lord Aemond.

This day, thus, is one of the many celebrations the Queen and her consort, your father, are giving on your behalf. There are many tournaments and a great feast is held on your wedding day.

It is curious how by amending his relationship with you, by extent you make peace with your half-sisters and even towards the Velaryon boys. Despite preferring Helaena’s company, soon you and Baela find that riding a dragon is something both of you enjoy—amidst other common tastes.

As for Aemond, he admits that uncle Daemon is one whom he often looks up. Thanks to you, this is a bond that will get stronger with time.

“You better not break my daughter’s heart”, the rogue prince says in a very serious tone. “I have many flaws, but do not underestimate my iron will in protecting my family.”

And then he takes his son by marriage in a tender embrace. You could not have your cheeks any redder after it.

“Dear Gods”, you mumble, all the whilst you watch them exchange amenities.

As you take your seat at the high table and your husband follows you, for the bedding ceremony is about to be announced in that boisterous manner, you both enjoy the last reminiscent of brief silence.

“My lady wife”, Aemond takes your hand to his lips and there presses a kiss. “I don’t think I ever told you how I was enchanted to meet you the day my late father brought you to us.”

Your face is bright red, much to his delight. The one eyed prince side smirks at you, still kissing your delicate fingertips. You tilt your head to the side, eyeing him devotedly.

“My lord husband”, you chew the new word and it gives you butterflies on your stomach. “So was I. The moment I saw you, I knew you were mine.”

“Indeed”, he whispers. “I shall be eternally yours if you have me.”

You lean towards him, lips barely touching his.

“As am I.”

But no word is spoken as the already drunk prince consort announces this is it. It’s time for husband and wife to be… well, husband and wife.

The bedding ritual thus begins.

[eldrith]

˗ˏˋ A Golden Cage ˎˊ˗ Jacaerys Velaryon

jacaerys velaryon x aunt/targ!fem!reader words: 8.6k synopsis: "The butterfly escapes the web, but the dragon’s breath will singe its wings." notes: hi my bbs! thank you sm for the love on my first fic - here's a smut that i just wrote this morning and didn't want to wait to post. follows a non-canon timeline/events (just stretched out for the sake of the story), and involves time skips; characters aged-up to 20/21. Jace is a tits man i will die on this hill lol warnings: canon-typical mentions of war/violence, angsty, canon-typical incest, brief mention of blood, angst/grieving, Jace has a distinct way of grieving, surprisingly dom!Jace lol, mommy&daddy issues, hair pulling kink, mentions of virginity/experience, smut, oral(f!receiving), fingering, arguing (fr enemies to lovers), improper use of High Valyrian (and obviously idk if its correct nor do i care tbh), fluff at the end but they fight the whole rest of the time lol. feedback is appreciated <3 requests open. series masterlist. masterlist

THE LAST TIME YOU SAW YOUR BETROTHED, YOUR FATHER WAS STILL ALIVE.

It was your mother’s strict words and the gleaming glint of her seven-pointed necklace that had forced you out of your chambers, that night: after that disastrous dinner, when Aemond and Aegon had teased and tortured Rhaenyra’s sons; in which your sweet sister toasted to you, insisting your marriage to your nephew Jacaerys would not be too bad – that he’d just ignore you until he’d had too much to drink. 

Now, they were to leave in just an hour; you, to remain in the Red Keep to prepare for your betrothal, before returning with your half-sister after her visit next week. 

You’d been betrothed to Jacaerys Velaryon when you were ten and two; some effort to save the stringent bond between your sister and mother - and though you and Jacaerys are two of the same age, carrying the ancient Valyrian bloodlines, it was still a shock to your young mind.

Growing up, you’d always assumed you’d marry your brother, Aegon - just a few years older than you, it made sense. Though when your younger sister Helaena and Aegon became betrothed, it left a shudder of shock through you; not particularly in disappointment, as you’d grown to rather detest the boy, but a shudder of confusion: It was the first true act of betrayal, small as it was, that you would come to understand from your mother and grandsire. 

The second you were soon to experience, after the death of your father and the usurping of your sister’s throne - but before then, you’d allowed yourself to be pleased; Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Wife of Jacaerys Valeryon - noble, growing to be very handsome, and though you did spend a lot of your childhood watching him with interested eyes and bright cheeks, that soon tapered out once you were all young adults.

Your brothers accusing them of bastardization can taint such a thing. 

At the time, you’d simply played with your fingers to calm your nerves; you must do it. Your mother had held back her tongue, you could tell - she was disappointed in you, in the way you’d spat a snide comment at dinner, when you’d struck your own brother in front of everyone after he’d insulted your honor. As if you weren't a grown woman of eight and ten, but a mere child. You must do it, lest you drive me crazy- 

You didn’t care to hear much more; you’ve always had trouble with your tongue, pressing buttons and dancing around the shadows just to be seen. A sad desire, yes - but one that came naturally when you landed yourself in the middle of a loveless family who seemed to care more about the weather than yourself. She's so much like Rhaenyra, you father had said in your youth - perhaps that is why your mother rejected you so.

But as you’d protested against the task of apology one last time, your mother had snapped. 

She’d muttered something under her breath -You’re nothing like Helaena. It was true, and she’d finally spoken it. Your Queen mother’s regret had rippled through her face, but you were already on your feet, already down the hallway to find your betrothed and his mother, to issue them all an apology - an apology that should be coming from your mother’s other children who caused the scene at that horrendous dinner; yet you, cursed to deliver it, ever the branch of olives. 

The echo of your footsteps was almost silent in the dimly lit halls as you made your way toward their family quarters; The weight of your impending betrothal to Jacaerys pressed heavily on your mind, as this impending discussion with your half sister and uncle drew a pit of dread in your stomach. 

As you approached the open chamber, the flickering torchlight cast dancing shadows on the stone walls; be it nerves or hesitance, you slowed your pace to a slow few steps. 

 The voices inside were low but distinct, and you recognized Rhaenyra and Daemon immediately. “You used to enjoy her company as a child,” Daemon remarks, a hint of amusement laced through his words. “Always following her around, trying to keep up with her mischief.”

“Jace, you were once quite taken with her.” His mother’s voice, “You danced with her tonight, did you not?” 

Your breath hitches, registering the memory of Jace’s palm in yours; avoiding your eyes, even as you danced - moments before he asked your dear sister Helaena to dance and your brother melted with irritation.

"As was my duty." His voice retorts.

You leaned closer, desperate to hear more. Rhaenyra’s voice grew softer, almost wistful. “It’s a good thing, you know. Even if your feelings seem mixed up now, there’s a strong bond beneath it all. It may take time to realize it.”

“Nothing is mixed up, mother.” Jacaerys’ voice is defensive, “She’s just as much of a nuisance as her brothers.”

There is a pang of offense, of hurt, within your stomach at his words, yet you’re rooted to the spot. 

“Must she always be annoying someone?” He bemoans; a boil of anger in your stomach at the childish complaints from a man of ten-and-eight. The heir to the throne, whining like a child. 

You ignore the true pain of rejection, the embarrassment of your residual harbored crush, and let your anger curdle instead. 

“She is to be your wife, Jace,” Daemon added, his tone stern - but his sentence is cut off by a thud and then Jace’s voice, once again. 

“It’s like she opens her mouth and her mother speaks through it,” Jace continued, his voice laced with bitterness, “She doesn’t have a brain between her ears-” 

“Jacaerys!” Rhaenyra’s voice cuts through the air, sharp and authoritative as you hide a gasp, heart freezing as your eyes sting. “-You will speak of your betrothed with respect.”

Jace’s response was muffled, but you caught the frustration in his tone; your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you swallow your embarrassment. 

“You will make it work,” Rhaenyra interrupted firmly. “This is not just about you. It is about our families, our legacy. You owe her, and yourself, more respect.”

The reality of your situation - detested by your betrothed, unloved by your mother - it all washed over you like a suffocating shroud, the pain and humiliation too much to bear. Unable to listen any longer, you turned and fled, steps quickening as you hurried away from the open chamber.

As you rushed down the hall, you heard the voices behind you falter, and you grew even more embarrassed knowing they realized they’d been overheard. The sting of tears threatened, but you refused to let them fall until you were back in your chambers, eyes stinging with regret.  Not here. Not now.

YOU FLED THE RED KEEP SOON AFTER LUCERYS’ DEATH.

The roar of your dragon echoed off the jagged cliffs of Dragonstone when you landed, the bitter wind whipping your hair and stinging your cheeks. Your one and twentieth birthday passed last week; the ring you received from your mother is thrown into the tumultuous sea with a scream of pain. 

The journey had not been nearly as perilous as your escape; nicked down the arm in a similar wound your own sister had once bore from your mother, you and your dragon barely escaped the Kingsguard once they realized you were fleeing. 

As you dismounted, the weight of everything; your nephew’s death, the cruelty of your brother, of your own mother - heavier than any burden you had ever borne. Perhaps, you considered as you entered the throne room of Dragonstone, you have always bore this burden. Fated, in a way, to lose and lose and lose. 

A tremendous effort, truly, to grasp at who you’d always known, always revered, always idolized: Your sister. 

Her charm, the sharpness of her wit, the fierce love of all her children; something you envied quite often in your youth, something you’d come to recognize as jealousy of Lucerys and Jacaerys and their brothers. Something you’d been told to hate and scorn - by the very woman who saw you completely indifferently.

It was two weeks after Lucerys was killed that you found yourself entering the hall to Dragonstone, hands shaking and in a panic. 

Your younger sister’s words; they echo still in your head, as alive and distant as they’d been the first time she’d murmured them those weeks ago, after Rhaenys had broken from King’s Landing. The butterfly escapes the web, but the dragon’s breath will singe its wings.

The great hall was thickened with grief; it seemed to drip from the obsidian slates, trail behind your cloak as you’d staggered, ragged and panicked. 

Your Queen sister Rhaenyra stood at the head of the room, her commanding presence shadowed by sorrow - the faces of those gathered were similar, and you quickly found the eyes of Jacaerys, standing beside his mother. 

It was years ago you last saw him, and he had grown quite more than you’d expected. His own grief was worn like a cloak - eyes hollow with the recent loss of his brother, a fury swirling within. You had to fight not to look away - though it’s been two-and-half years, he looks much different; hair, longer and curled around his jaw - eyes angry, shoulders full and tall. Lips that part slightly in a sharp inhale of shock when he registers your own figure - whom he likely assumed he’d never see again. 

There was a moment, suspended in air; a breath, the fluttering of lashes, in which you remembered the fond times of your adolescence with the boy. Picking apples in an orchard; stumbling from your dragons with wind-stained cheeks and small laughter; tickling his younger brother until he screamed, Jace and you laughing yourselves sick. It was as if an entire lifetime had passed in their faint memory, tainted by the embarrassment of growing up and the humiliation by your brothers. You're not sure you've seen Jacaerys laugh since you were four and ten.

Jacaerys’ eyes snapped away from you as they grew full of some kind of emotion; you were too exhausted to decipher, instead, taking weak steps forward. 

You'd wondered what they saw when you stepped forward, kneeling before Rhaenyra, your voice clear and unwavering. “I proclaim Rhaenyra Targaryen as the true heir to the Iron Throne. I bend the knee and swear my allegiance to her.”

There had been many things said - murmurs, rippling; to send you to the cells, to feed you to the dragons. Rhaenyra’s voice was sharp.  “Why should we believe you?”

You’d met the pain in her eyes with some of your own, exhausted by the journey, hand streaked in blood from your wounds. “I am no loved daughter of Alicent’s,” you’d protested, your voice trembling with emotion. “I have never been trusted by any of them besides my father, least of all my grandsire Hightower nor my mother. I was a pawn, I-”

It was Jacaerys’ voice you remember most, sharp and accusing. “You expect us to believe you, now, when Lucerys is dead?” 

Your heart ached at the mention of Luke, but you'd pressed on. “I was left behind in a pit of snakes.” You’d turned to your half-sister Rhaenyra, your voice breaking as you continued, “Betrayed by my own family after my brother usurped your throne. I watched them tear us apart for their ambitions.”

Rhaenys - the vision of her, nearly burning you all to death in the Dragonpit after the coronation of your brother; she had stepped forward, discussed with the Queen and Daemon and the others. You, swallowing as your boots made to swipe over the blood pooling from your arm to the stone floor. 

Rhaenyra had not believed you - none of them truly did, and you expected as such. Somehow in the sorrow of her gaze, there was something, a softening - memories of all the court whispers about you as a youth. Unfair and dishonorable as they were, it is all in the past now.

Your Queen would not betray you the way your mother had. 

  “We will listen to what you have to say,” she said, her voice resolute. “For now, let us have your wounds attended to.”

You’d rose, eyes wide with the mercy your sister showed you; the room around you had buzzed with cautious acceptance. Jacaerys was gone before you even rose to your feet. 

IT WAS MORE THAN A WEEK BEFORE HE SPOKE TO YOU.

It was a week of loneliness; in the cells below the Dragonstone keep, the only company dripping walls and spare rats. 

Even in the days following your proved devotion, in which you’d laid out plainly to the Queen’s council a recount of how you’d escaped and what the Greens were plotting; though you’ve proven not to be a spy, just one phantom limb remains of your sister’s humming musings through the Red Keep of your mind: The butterfly escapes the web, but the dragon’s breath will singe its wings.

It was more than a week until you chose to seek Jacaerys out; he, as you well understand, has taken the worst to your presence, avoiding you and missing each supper you happen to attend after being appointed your own quarters and freed from your prisoner status. 

And even in the sparse interactions you find, you can see the concern, the sorrow in his mother’s eyes; Jacaerys is grieving. He hovers away from people, avoiding eye contact - quick to anger, lost of that level-headedness he’d grown into as a young man. 

All that seems to remain is fire.  

It becomes too much one day, at a council you were asked to speak in - Jacaerys walking in, taking one look; turning around and leaving with no more than a glare and a clench of the jaw. 

You find him later, sparring against a dummy; sword freshly polished, you allow yourself a moment to gather your thoughts. It is with anxious eyes that you prepare your emotions, trying to curb the part of you that wishes to build up that same armor your older brother has; That slimy urge, that desire under your mother’s loathing glare, to poke and prod until you were noticed, even if for the worst. 

“Jacaerys.” You say, hoping your voice curls out less than deriding as you make your way towards him. A flicker of anger, but he does not stop. 

“Would you leave me be?” Jacaerys snaps, throwing back a gaze like a dagger. You clear your throat, the hatred in his voice curdling any semblance of calm you have and replacing it with that beastly panic; the one which makes you act foolish. 

You trace the dummy behind him with the tip of your finger, tensing your jaw. 

“Well,” you start quietly, avoiding the casual sting of memory with your facade, “I must always be somebody’s problem, yes?”

He freezes for a moment - recognition, perhaps, of that night; that it was you, who’d overheard their discussion. He turns slightly, not fully giving you his full attention, before he turns back to his sparring dummy, striking it with a ferocity that reveals the depth of his grief. “You always were a thorn in my side,” he mutters, his voice thick with emotion.

You wish it didn’t still hurt, after all the years. 

“And you were always a self-righteous Prince,” you retort, your own anger simmering beneath the surface. “But here we are, fighting for the same cause.” You sigh, determined to let him vent his anger if it means he might find some measure of peace. “Isn’t that something?”

This indeed garners attention. “Do not try to relate to me. You have no idea what it’s like to lose a brother.” Jacaerys growls, his strikes becoming more erratic. 

“You’re right,” you say quietly, stepping closer but keeping a respectful distance, wary of the greatsword he yields with surprising strength. “I don’t. But I know what it’s like to lose everything else.”

He pauses, his chest heaving with exertion and emotion, as he turns to you. “You think you can just waltz here, switch sides, and everything will be forgiven?” His voice is thick with emotion; jaw clenched, chest heaving, the wind whips his hair and nips at the red of his cheeks. You nearly mention that his mother the Queen had been the one to decide your fate, to show mercy - but then, he opens his mouth again and it stings more than a wound in the ocean. 

“That you can replace my brother?”

It hurts. You’ve seen how things have changed - there is no light in the castle, no smiles; downtrodden, solemn; you ache for their pain, for the loss of your sweet nephew. Lucerys took with him the hearts of everyone. 

You shake your head. “I don’t want to replace anyone,” you snap, your façade cracking. “I came here to help, to do what’s right. I’ve lost too, Jace-” The nickname from your childhood - back when the extent of your adversary was when he pulled your hair or you tripped him in the hall - slips from your lips without trying. It feels wrong, though - foreign. Cold. “My family, my home...” You add. 

“Your family?” he interrupts, his voice rising. “The same family that killed my brother?”

The truth stings, and you feel your own anger rising to meet him. “Do you think I chose to be born into that vipers’ nest? I risked everything to be here, to stand with you. To stand with my sister.”

“Stand with us.” He scoffs, shaking his head as anger boils; he takes a step towards you as you feel a speck of rain hit your nose. “You’re nothing but a traitor. Scorned because you couldn’t marry your brother the Usurper. A snake in dragon’s clothing.”

Your teeth clench. “A golden cage is still a cage.” You defend, the air cooling as the night dawns; a few tears fall upon your shoulders, splattering Jacaerys’ armor with rain from the heavens. 

This only makes him shake his head, sighing. “You’re nothing but a puppet, dancing on strings pulled by whoever promises you a bit of power.” He snaps. Fury flashes through you, blinding you to his obvious pain. 

“And you’re a fool, Jacaerys.” 

A mistake, surely. Somewhere in the back of your head, you know that in another world, your mother would have struck you across the face for saying such a thing to anybody.

Before you can react, a sword is staring down your nose, pointing at you with a shaking hand. “Say that again,” Jacaerys dares you, his voice trembling with barely restrained fury. You swallow thickly, heartbeat thundering though you know there is no real danger. 

You stare at the blade, then back at him, your own fear overridden by a surge of defiance. “You won’t hurt me, Jace-” you say softly, stepping closer. 

“-Don’t call me that.” He snaps, eyes rimmed with simmering tears. 

You hold your hands up, nodding, “Nephew.” You mend, tilting your head. 

His jaw ticks but you sully on, concerned this may be the only way to break through to him. He doesn’t move, his eyes locked on yours. Slowly, you reach out and grab the blade with your bare hand, the sharp edge slicing into your skin. 

It stings and you try not to wince; Blood drips down your fingers slowly, crimson tears over your veins. The rain picks up; its soft whispers against the tumultuous waters of the ocean. 

“Do it,” you whisper, your voice fierce. “Prove to me that you’re nothing more than your anger and grief. Show me that you’re just as lost as the rest of us.”

Tears well up in Jacaerys’ eyes, his grip on the sword faltering. Eyes flickering between your face and the blood that trickles from your hand, you can see the weight of his guilt and sorrow becomes too much to bear.

“I cannot understand your grief,” You whisper, “But I can help avenge him.” 

Something snaps; with a choked gasp, he lets his grip go slack - your hand falls from the blade with a release of a breath you didn’t know you’d held. 

“I’m sorry.” 

EVENTUALLY, YOU COULD NOT HIDE FROM EACH OTHER.

There came a night - after a simmer of stalemate in the edges of war, where your Queen and council at Dragonstone finally found yourselves at the hall’s long dining table. 

Adorned with flickering torches and banners bearing the sigil of House Targaryen, the wide walls cast a warm, flickering glow over the assembled company. Flanked by her sons and Daemon, Queen Rhaenyra sits at the head. You, sitting across from Baela and regrettably besides Jacaerys, find yourself rather out of place and uncomfortable - the buzzing anger seems to rove off the man beside you in waves, these days. You nearly feel the searing gaze that burns a hole through your head. 

For the first course, things remain; you, alight with the story Baela recounts of her cat chasing a rat through the kitchens, nearly forget where you are. Clinking of glassware and silver; though nobody seems to eat much these days, the hearth is full and there is more life than there has been on Dragonstone in weeks. 

A burning sensation permeates you by the second course; silent unless spoken to, Jacaerys remains on your right, near his mother and across from Daemon. He throws daggers concealed as glances to you, but by the time you become fully aware, it is too late. 

The heat of his silence, directed just a bit lower than your visage, makes your stomach turn. 

You dare spare a glance and nearly startle at the snap of caught eyes; a low, hidden beast that stirs within your abdomen at having caught him. His eyes flicker away from where they’d perched - centered near the neckline of your dress - you could laugh in disbelief. 

Lest he find accompaniment elsewere; the castle is large enough, he handsome and kind enough - there would surely be no shortage of women ready to entertain his sights. Your jaw sets - you know why. The Prince, despite his cold disposition towards you, is too honorable.

Huffing gently, you allow a quick roll of your eyes, telling yourself that when you cross your arms, it is in vexation. Certainly not to see if his eyes will land upon the subtle line of your cleavage again, and ignoring the creatures in your stomach that certainly aren’t butterflies.

It is only minutes before attention is called to Jace from someone down the table - a question you neither heard nor much cared to have repeated; yet he stirs, startled at the voice, and as you turn you meet his guilty eyes again. 

His cheeks are pink; yours heat with something you tell yourself is anger, schooling the desire that begins to leak through the chinks in your armor. 

“Unbelievable.” You hiss, wary that his ears pick up on your word - that nobody else does. 

There is nothing wrong, objectively, to feel flattered when a handsome man admires your beauty, you tell yourself. Even if it’s the stare of a man who refuses to speak to you. You spend several minutes trying to convince yourself of your own words. 

You dine on meat and vegetables; a cup of wine that you sip on while listening to Rhaenys discuss politely with the Queen, until falling into your own soft conversation, halted and unsure. 

Jacaerys’ eyes roam you again - it is only then that you finally sigh, dropping your fork gently to your side. “Kostilus lua aōha laesi naejot aōla, Dārilaros?” You snap smally, hiding your voice; it is only partially effective, as the eyes of Daemon and his daughters catch on your glare. Would you keep your eyes to yourself, my Prince?

When his eyes flicker to yours, there is an embarrassment; good, you think. But his lips quirk in some small cruel smile as he shakes his head, looking elsewhere. 

It leaves you unsettled and with a flicker of curiosity, of hunger, within you. 

“That gown is stunning.” Rhaena compliments, eyes wide as she takes in your new dress; an entire new wardrobe has been commissioned for you, of course - you’ve been borrowing garments and getting by with the few dresses the servants found in the dredges of the castle as to avoid any reminder of your previous prison. 

It is indeed a stunning gown; you wish to be the one who boasts the skills of the beautiful needlepoint, but it was one of the sweet handmaids assigned to you who created it- a silver dragon inlaid with silver chains; clasps to the front with a pleasant black satin beneath. 

“That is very kind, Rhaena,” You smile gently, pleased to have heard such complimentary words. Small conversations around the table on either side of you; though you can feel Jacaerys’ stare upon you like the heat of a dragon’s breath once more. 

You think you can ignore the scrutiny, and you do for several seconds: until Jacaerys leans forward slightly, his voice carrying just enough to reach your ears.

"Tell me, aunt," he begins, a smirk playing at his lips that leaves you on edge, "is it true that your taste in fashion matches your taste in allegiances?” His head tilts, unkind eyes burning with the blood you share behind them, “A bit confused, I presume."

His words land like a slap; mostly as they draw a momentary hush from the table, quiet as they were. Embarrassed, you find a rise of indignation and annoyance within you, stung by the jab at your attire and loyalty. “Funny, I didn’t notice you paying much attention to my fashion until tonight, nephew.” You jab back, raising a brow. 

He is only momentarily thrown off; always just as quick to fire as you. Two sides of the same mad coin, perhaps. “Oh, I noticed,” he says, tone dripping with sarcasm, “It’s hard to miss when someone dresses as if they’re trying to hide the stains of betrayal with a new cloak-”

Queen Rhaenyra’s voice cuts through the air, firm and commanding as a bolt of electricity. “Jacaerys, enough,” she commands, gaze hardening. “We are here to enjoy a meal, not to indulge in petty squabbles.” 

Jacaerys’ stare is hard at his mother, his cheeks aflame. You focus yourself on the empty plate in front of you that awaits dessert; you are no longer hungry. A soft brush of a foot under the table has your eyes glancing up against the anger and humiliation - Baela sends a gentle smile, some kind of apology. You send a soft nod back, grateful. 

“A word outside, Jace.” His mother demands, rising from the table; all of you follow suit, but the Queen waves you down, nodding regally. “Do not hold up, we’ll just be a minute.” 

Jacaerys follows; jaw set, eyes sharp as he stalks out of the room with his mother, leaving a tense silence in their wake. 

YOU COULD NOT BEAR TO STAY FOR DESSERT. 

Excusing yourself, you’re tearing out the hall, gasping as panic and humiliation threatens to choke you. Some sick twist of survivor’s guilt echoes in your heart - The butterfly escapes the web, but the dragon’s breath will singe its wings.

You almost snap at Helaena’s voice in your mind to shut up - catching yourself, you lean against the hallway, taking a deep breath. Anger and hurt war within you, a storm of emotions that threaten to spill over. 

And you will not allow anybody to witness such weakness. 

Not moments later the doors to the hall open and slam shut; one pair of footsteps echo in the hall, exiting the dining room - you dare to crane your head and see which other guest is tired of the meal. 

Jacaerys storms towards his quarters - revenge swirls within you as you push yourself up from the stone pillar, smoothing your hair before stalking after him. You follow him through the winding halls - nearly to his chambers, you’re unable to hold back any longer. 

“Jacaerys.”

 He halts abruptly, turning to face you with a mixture of irritation and surprise. “You didn’t need to follow me,” he snaps, edged with anger and something else you couldn’t quite place.

“I wanted to,” you replied evenly, your voice tinged with irritation as you carry yourself closer, until you can see the heaving of his chest under that dark doublet, the clenched jaw just below the dark curls of hair. “To see if you had more kind words to say about my attire. You seemed to be enjoying it earlier.” You snap. 

The glare he gives you nearly turns your heart into a gallop; in the flickering light, he has never looked more handsome, and it makes you all the more angry. 

He does not say anything; turning, his pace picks up as he stalks to the door of his quarters. You follow him in a blind desire to show him what he’s done. 

You wish your voice wasn’t so laced with hurt as you call to him in the dark once more:

 “Do you enjoy humiliating me in front of everyone?”

He stops abruptly just as his hand reaches for the iron knob to his chambers, turning to face you with a mixture of anger and defensiveness. “Humiliating you?” he repeats incredulously. “I asked a simple question.”

You can see the obvious lie within his eyes - of course he does not believe his own words. 

“You are a child,” you snap, the anger boiling over. “Hiding behind your jests because you’re too afraid to confront your own feelings.”

Jacaerys’s jaw clenches, his expression hardening at the words. “It’s not my fault you can’t take a little teasing.”

You scoff, incredulous. “You’ve always had a talent for belittling me, even when we were betrothed.”

“We’re not betrothed—” Jacaerys starts, but you cannot bear to hear it. You cannot bear to hear anybody else affirm what you’ve felt your whole life. “-and I thank the Gods every day for it,” you snarl back, cutting off his sentence with a sharp retort.

Jacaerys’s jaw tightens, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and something deeper, more conflicted. He takes a step closer, his voice low and strained as he slides away from his doorway. “You drive me mad, do you know that?” His voice is a strained whisper, barely containing the storm of emotions within him.

You’re faced with his full height - taller still than the last time you saw him years ago, chest out like a soldier, chin up like the heir he is; your throat dries at the smell of his soap. 

“Good,” you retort, your breath hitching. “At least then you know how I’ve felt all these years.”

There’s a charged silence, the air between you thick with tension - Jacaerys’ gaze drops to your lips, lingering there for a moment too long before snapping back to your eyes and you feel it; that pull, that angry heat that makes you unsure if you’d rather strike him or taste him against your lips. 

You’re not betrothed, you remind yourself. Why does the sentiment not comfort you, but instead strike a deep longing within you? 

He recovers; a dusting of a heated flush over his cheeks as he shakes his head.  “You have no idea how I feel.” He snaps, eyes searching you. When you hesitate, he steps even closer, breath warm against your face. You’re suddenly incredibly aware of your proximity - the heat of his body nearly pressed against yours, the arousal that drips from you and pools under your skirts; evidence of your traitorous heart. You’re supposed to be mad. Angry. 

You laugh incredulously, “You think I don’t feel anything every time you look at me like that?” You hiss, gesturing with your chin to his eyes, molten with some poorly concealed desire - a heat, a craving. The way his eyes dip, lower - to your chest, heaving with the exertion of your boiled over desire, to your lips, chewed and ripe. 

He swallows hard; you watch the apple of his throat move and subconsciously, your tongue moves to swipe over your bottom lip. 

His eyes dance with the motion; a muscle ticks in his jaw. “Why must you make me feel these things?” he growls, his voice low; it stirs the dangerous desiring beast that remains low in your abdomen. Arousal, its fierce and wanting claws, gnaw at your ribcage. “I hate that you have this power over me.” He says, voice quieter - the stare of a Prince, begging for something. 

Power over him? Your heart races against your ribcage and you are forced to blink in confusion. 

“I’m sorry.” You breathe, “I did not choose this. Betrayed by a loveless family and fighting constantly with the man I was one day betrothed to marry."

Jacaerys’s eyes burn bright, “Do you think it was any easier for me? Watching you, wanting you, and knowing that you were always just out of reach?”

You sneer at his audacity, the bitterness rising in your throat. “Out of reach? You pushed me away every chance you got. We were betrothed at two and ten, Jacaerys, and are nearly twice that age now and yet you still refuse to speak to me without raising your voice.”

His chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, mirroring your own. “We were children. I did not know what I wanted.”

“And what is it you want now, Jace?” you challenge, your voice dropping to a whisper.  

Your hand seems to have a mind of its own, raising - but Jace’s hand snaps out to clutch your wrist, holding it tight in the suspended thick air. His brows raise - in a teasing manner, one that has your heartbeat thrumming through your veins. “You know what I want.” 

The hand gripping your wrist pulls you closer as you utter the words, his eyes darkened in the empty hall. "Then stop fighting me." You hiss. 

His grip on your wrist tightens, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you, the heat between you almost unbearable. He looks into your eyes, his gaze searching, desperate -  for a heartbeat, you think he might push you away. 

Instead, his lips crash against yours in a sharp intake of breath, the slope of his nose bumping against yours, teeth clashing; all you feel is the fire of his touch, the slight shudder in his chest as your hands snake to the nape of his neck, threading through the locks of curls which lie above his doublet. 

His teeth nip against your lip; a mistake, unintentional as you feel the pent-up frustration and anger within him - nevertheless it sparks a rove of desire through you, keening towards his touch as you press up into his embrace.

He’s pushed you against the door to his chambers; the wood, digging into your back, is suddenly gone as his hand struggles against the doorknob and your balance is fully thrown. 

Stumbling back, robbed from Jace’s fiery grasp, you yelp - into his chambers, he takes you in his hands again, catching you before you stumble. In your peripherals, you see his foot shove the door shut, a resounding echo down the halls, swallowing up the short burst of desire you’d both shown. 

His cheeks are nearly as red as the doublet he wears; hands pulling you closer by your neck and back. Slowly grows a satisfaction in your gaze - you let yourself smirk. “Flustered, dear nephew?” 

His eyes search you for a moment, and the teasing look on your face melts under his stare. A hand reaches out, grasping your jaw - a surprising action, one that dries your throat as his chest heaves, watching you with some new ire. “You are quite beautiful like this.” He observes, as if he’s just read it in one of his lessons; like it has always been known. 

The heat that floods to your face and chest causes you to squirm - standing, still, under his watchful gaze and soft grip on your face. A small smile, one that teases a trace of dimples in the firelight. A smile that makes your stomach flip and your heat pulse. 

“It seems quite easy to have you flustered too, Sodjisto.” Aunt. You resist a shiver - High Valyrian drips from his lips like the rolling of waves on a rocky shore; it ignites desire heavily, coating you in a sense of need. 

You dare not let him speak any longer. 

Stumbling, your lips catch his once more - you, experienced only in the base pleasures you’d found in days sneaking off with young men in the shadows of the Red Keep; his own lips, somewhere similarly between confident and unsure. It is a comfort to you.  

It does not seem, as Jacaerys presses you against the post of his bed, that he is wholly inexperienced as your brother implied those years ago; The thought flares you with some kind of envious bitter sigh as his hands dare to trail lower. 

A gasp is pulled from you when the fingers of his right hand tug your thigh up, hooking it over his hip - a bold move, one that presses the lines of your body impossibly close, and you feel a distinct hardness to his own desire between his hips. You wish he does not hear the hitch in your breath as his own hips slide against your heat; as your legs tremble with the ache of need. 

Blunt nails trace the bare of your thigh as he slips a palm under your dress skirts, raising a wake of shivering want from your body. One hand tugs his hair; a hiss from between his teeth as his head tilts back, glancing up to the Gods as if to thank them and curse them in the same breath. His hips buck against yours in pleasure and you bite back a moan at the friction. 

In the flickering of the hearth, Jacaerys’ throat is smooth, freshly shaven; on display for you. Your lips find the skin of him before your teeth do, soothing over the bites you leave in their wake. 

He groans your name - it is like a song, a praise, a prayer. 

You swallow your burning desire when his fingers, climbing up the inside of your trembling thigh, graze your cunt tentatively. “Jace,” You gasp, keening sharply, throbbing though the touch was light and forgetting. 

He drinks up the attention, the power - as if he was born for it. 

Humming, the man before you tilts his head, waves of hair glinting as you pull back from his jaw. “Iksos konīr mirros ao jaelagon?” He whispers innocently, lips nearly pouting as he watches you.  Is there something you want? 

Your throat dries at the timber of his voice, tongue curling deliciously as your ancestral language tumbles, still wobbly and half sure, from his lips. You understand it all the same. 

In a heated attempt to save your dignity, you push your hips against his, feeling the length of his cock against your lower abdomen, a low whine from your lips. 

He lets his fingers brush against your cunt again, gathering a moisture that coaxes a smug grin on his face. You’re unsure if the flicker of pleasure is from the stare he gives you, or his touch. “Ivestragon issa.” He demands, voice so commanding and honorable; tell me. 

Your breath is regretfully shaky when you catch his stare, your own hand sliding out from his hair, clutching him close by the red doublet. “Renigon issa,” You whisper in reply, cheeks aflame with his sudden commanding presence. Touch me. 

This seems to please the Prince; in a flash of pleasure within his eyes, you catch a boyish relief - as if concerned that your actions leading up to this moment were somehow tainted. As if you did not live half your life expecting to be his forever. 

He shows you a quick mercy as he presses against you again, a moan swallowed by him as you exhale onto his lips, tugging him close by the curl of his hair. Long, slender fingers press against your mound, sliding down lower to where you ache for him, your thigh closing in on him to pull yourselves closer. 

“I crave you,” You whisper against his lips. A short groan before he whispers against you, “Lie on the bed.” 

You do, heart in your throat; still fully dressed, you lie and stutter your inhale at the sudden scent of Jace within the sheets; an intoxicating presence more strong than any wine you’ve ever tasted. 

Your pleasure is curbed, however, as you watch Jacaerys instead drop to his knees, holding your stare. 

You swallow as you pull up onto elbows, buzzing in excitement, confusion. “What are you doing?” 

He chooses to ignore you; palms calloused from sword wielding slide once again, ruching your skirts until they gather at your hips. Flushed, your cunt is exposed to the air of the room and to the gaze of your nephew, knelt just before you. 

“My cousin was right,” He chooses to mutter instead, barely audible over the pounding of your heart. His eyes break away from yours to roam over every inch of your body before him - the curve of your breasts, heaving in the firelight. “This dress is quite something.” 

 You’re unsure how to handle yet another compliment - just as you begin to respond, “Th-thank-” 

You let out a sharp moan, jolting against the mattress below you and arching your spine.

His lips have pressed a chaste kiss against your womanhood, sending jolts of pleasure through you. Hands, trembling, find his hair as he presses another kiss against you, palms moving to tug your thighs. You gasp as he lifts them until he is firmly settled between your legs, thighs resting upon broad shoulders.

You nearly smack his head when his tongue, hungry and curious, licks a fat stripe through your seam, gathering your nectar against him and nudging your pearl with the tip. “Gods, Jace-” You tug harshly instead, hips unable to cease as they move against him. 

It is nothing you have ever felt in your life. Streaks of hot pleasure, of ecstasy, desire- they flood you, tensing your muscles and shaking your legs. 

A swirl of his tongue over your bundle of nerves and you gasp, head thrown back onto the mattress. You resist the urge of pleasure that coaxes your eyes to roll back, instead forcing yourself to look - look, at the lewd way Jacaerys eats your cunt, eyes dark and watching for the signs of your pleasure. 

The sound of you against his mouth has your face burning; a pleasure you cannot control as his tongue circles your entrance - clenching around nothing, begging for him. “How did you-” Your gasp is ragged, tugging at the strands of hair between your fingers as your hips buck. “Learn of this?” 

A gasp, a raspy moan of his own as you tug his hair tight; the sound you wish to keep for yourself forever in your lewdest, darkest fantasies. “The North,” he utters, barely bringing his lips away from your glistening heat as if he can barely stand to stop. Though there is a low burning sense within you, a flutter within you at his eager ministrations against you - breath warm, wanting. “Have you a sweetheart up there, my Prince?” You ask, curbing the envy that curls green and dangerously in your voice. 

You can feel the smirk of Jace’s hum against your cunt; it sends a rove of arousal through you. “You ought to learn to hide your jealousy better.” He mutters, lips brushing against your pearl and sending your back arching; forearms hold your thighs, tongue delving deeper to spread your leaking desire, sliding within you as his nose presses your sensitive bud. You near the very edge of some ecstatic revelation - unable to voice it, you instead maintain the short clips of conversation that feel much too casual. 

“I had thought you would have more honor, dear nephew.” You’re sure it is supposed to come out as an insult - instead it falls with a small type of sadness, a melancholy despite the pleasure he delivers. A lingering voice in your head, that sounds much like your mother’s: you sin. 

Jacaerys’ tongue slows as he pulls away, lips shining in such a vulgar way you nearly cast your glance aside. His breath hits you and sends your eyes rolling in pleasure. 

“I’ve been with others,” he admits, his eyes not quite meeting yours either. “But never… fully.”

His cheeks are once again that sweet rose pink; pursing his lips, he looks up at you from his position between your thighs, hair mussed and curls wild from your hands. It is a sight so endearing you nearly look away once more. 

“I wouldn’t -“ A clear of his throat, “It is the honorable thing to do, to save myself for-” He stops the thought, though, his eyes laced with that same pain you have come to know. 

Your face warms - was he about to say you? Or to his future betrothed, whomever she may be? 

Swallowing thickly, you nod, letting your head fall back. “I’ve never... I’ve been waiting too.” You admit to his ceiling, trying hard not to breathe in the deep scent of his soaps and cologne that lie within the bed’s sheets. 

He seems to be forgiving this evening; with a breath of air that stirs a shiver of pleasure over your molten core, he hums. “Enough.” He utters, “If you can still talk, my job is not yet finished.” 

And so he resumes; with a gasp of air, you whimper his name, thighs closing in around his head. Lips, full and wanting, mouth at you; moving again to your entrance, he pulls away just enough for you to jolt as one long finger gathers up the mix of your essence and his own saliva. 

He will not tear his eyes away as he watches his own digit prod against you; you whimper, clenching in need, as he shushes you against your sensitive pearl. The vibrations make you jolt, and it is with a sweet, low moan that you feel his finger slide deep into your heat. He hums a low sound into you that sends your toes curling, nails dragging against his scalp as you push him further against you. 

He slides another finger into you after just a few seconds - no more patience, perhaps, or he can tell the way you squeeze him that you will not last much longer. Your head thrashes against the sheets as two long fingers curl deep inside you; hitting that sweet spot that makes your breath hitch and your ankles kick against his clothed back. Arms pulling tighter, he pins you to the mattress, eyes fluttering shut as he grazes his teeth against your pearl

Any semblance of propriety or honor is gone; out into the quiet of the halls, as Jacaerys takes you apart with his tongue and fingers. 

It is near minutes before you’re kicking, bucking your hips as a slight fear of the impending feeling roves through your abdomen. Heat licks through you as his nose nudges your sensitive nub; you shake your head slightly, “It’s- I’m going to-” 

“Good,” He affirms, barely looking up from his ministrations, his cadence just as desperate as your own. You let out a low moan of his name, tugging his hair until he looks up at you; you shake your head, the ecstasy nearly too much, right on the precipice- 

But he instead chooses to mock you, nodding yes as you shake your head furiously - the feeling is nearly about to make you burst; with a gasp, you whimper, “Jace-” 

His voice is low, speaking into you as his thumb rubs against your sensitive cunt, “Gaomagon daor vīlībagon ziry, Sodjisto.” His words evoke the emotions from before: Desire, heat, hunger, some kind of anger. Do not fight it, aunt. 

So you don’t. 

Instead, you let out a sharp cry of ecstasy as you begin to tremor, desire pulsing from you more than you’ve ever known. Jace mutters against your clammy thigh, nipping at the soft plush of your thighs, “Fuck,” He utters. If you were any more composed you might find yourself shocked at his swear; always more than composed until provoked to action, it is unlike Prince Jacaerys - though, as you release your vice-grip on his curls, heaving a sigh as you ride out your pleasure, you’re not truly surprised at all. 

You still shake slightly, unable to stop your body in the aftermath of such a high; even as you lean forward, crashing your lips against his own, tasting your essence upon his lips, his chin. 

YOU LEAVE HIS CHAMBERS WITH SHAKY LEGS AND HIS ARM BRUSHING YOUR OWN. 

You’d insisted, despite whatever foolish trysts you’d allowed yourselves in the heat of anger, that you could make your way back to your own quarters fine on your own.

Though, after he’d wiped his face and brushed a hand through his curls, he’d melted back into that Prince, the kind, chivalrous one who shook his head, eyes still alight with something like bashfulness.

How you wished to pay back the favor as he’d risen from between your legs, his arousal more than evident through his trousers; he’d denied, mentioning it would only be so long before your handmaids sent the guards to find you. 

And so you walk in the eerie silence, ignoring the heat in your cheeks or the brushing of your knuckles against his. 

When you arrive in front of your quarters, Jacaerys’ hand catches your arm gently. You look at him, unsure whether to expect mercy or anger. 

"I owe you an apology," He begins, voice tinged with a rare vulnerability. "For the way I've treated you, especially in these trying times. My grief... it clouded my judgment."

You meet his gaze, watching as guilt and sincerity etch themselves in his brow. "I understand," you reply softly, your voice laced with empathy, "I know the pain runs deep, and I'm forever regretful, forever sorry for the role my family played in all of this." You purse your lips, gathering the courage to continue, "And I, too, have harbored resentment," you confess, your voice catching slightly. "For the misunderstandings, the hurt I had not realized I inflicted."

He nods solemnly, the lines of tension in his face softening marginally. "I do believe I let anger cloud my perception of you."

You can only lift one shoulder, your skin glowing in the light of the moon as you offer him a small smile. His face - soft, pale, regal - watches you.

 "I never… planned for..” His face is soon pink, a soft grin hidden away. You swallow, shaking your head with a faint, nostalgic smile at the thought of past wounds. 

 "Nor I," you admit softly, your gaze drifting to the moonlit courtyard beyond the arched windows; beyond, a roaring sea. "But perhaps it was inevitable, given our history."

A flicker of something in his face before he turns back to you, sending a soft smile. Dimples grow shyly in the moonlight, “Maybe so.” 

part two series masterlist.

Requests open. Taglist open.

[sparklefxck]

“PSYCHO KILLER…!”

↣ what i write for: fluff, angst, smut ( i’m still very intermediate though💀), blurbs, headcanons, platonic!reader, dr scenarios

↣ who i write for:

matt murdock, wayne mccullough, frank castle (platonic!reader only), kai parker, jacaerys valeryon, glenn rhee, jj maybank, chad meeks, randy meeks, finnick odair, miguel o’hara, erik lensherr, eddie munson, dave lizewski, peter parker, brian o’conner,robb stark, bucky barnes, winston scott + and many more!

↣ what i won’t write for: dark romance/dark themes, (g)rape, s/a, domestic violence, any form !ncest, p3dophilia, dub-con, cnc, somnophilia, anything with human waste, butt stuff, toxic relationships, ddlg, shows or movies i’ve never watched

* please do not give me a suggestion that you have already given to someone else

* no rushing please! i have a life too babe

* send one request at a time, do not put multiple in one request and don’t be afraid to be specific

[valaenatargaryensdragon]

jacaerys and his valyrian looking twin sister giving jaehaerys and alysanne reborn! they're betrothed early on by their mother and grandsire and can't get enough of one another. no war and they marry right when they're of age, and he totally has a breeding and lactation kink with her after so many kids, feeding from her breast to relax himself from his duties as heir and serving on their moms council as she's queen. to the point rhaenyra is so concerned that sets her aside like you're always with child is everything okay and she's like noo I want this.

A/N: I hope you like it! I feel like this would look better as multiple parts or? Cause this is supposed to be a duration of their life so I tried like doing a summery.

pairing: Fanon!Jacaerys Valeryon x twin!Reader

summary: jacaerys and his valyrian looking twin sister giving jaehaerys and alysanne reborn! they're betrothed early on by their mother and grandsire and can't get enough of one another. no war and they marry right when they're of age, and he totally has a breeding and lactation kink with her after so many kids, feeding from her breast to relax himself from his duties as heir and serving on their moms council as she's queen. to the point rhaenyra is so concerned that sets her aside like you're always with child is everything okay and she's like noo I want this.

Word count: 2,4K

Warnings: Fluff, incest, no war, smut, P in V, breeding kink, fingering, lactation kink, humping

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

"Jace" You moaned wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He hummed against the skin of your neck, placing soft kisses there, teasing you. He grinded his hard on against your exposed and wet cunt.

"Jace, please" You lifted your hips trying to get more friction. Jace chuckled against your throat and raised his head to look at you. A smile adorned his face. You looked back at your husband of almost fifteen years, you two were married on your six and ten namedays, the celebration became two or technically three.

The realm rejoiced and congratulated you two when the King himself ordered fourteen days of celebrations, seven in Jace's honour and seven for yours. There were feasts of all kinds for the nobles in the Red Keep and also there were tents that were put up in the streets for the smallfolk.

You and Jace were always meant to be together, you were born together after all. Jacaerys was born with his Strong brown hair and eyes but you had your mother's white-blonde hair and her lavender eyes. You and Jace shared a room ever since you were born and refused to leave one another. When you two became ten namedays old rumours floated around that your two began fondling each other, they were untrue of course but it caused a stir but still you two refused to be separated from each other.

Queen Alicent suggested betrothing you to her son Aegon and all hell broke loose, Jace threatened to steal you away if anyone tried taking you away from him. Your mother feared he would do like King Jaehaerys did with Queen Alysanne and refused the match. By the time you two were ten and three you finally were betrothed much to your joy.

Jace refused to leave your side and when he would train in the courtyard he demanded you come and watch him. Still your innocent nature won and you made friends with your uncles and aunt, especially with your aunt. You would read with her book about insects, she out of love for them but you out of curiosity. This released some of the tension between your brothers and uncles and they made some kind of truce.

When Aemond claimed a dragon you were the once to advice Jace against taking the knife with him sparing your uncle's eye from a horrible fate. Now Jace and Aemond sparred together with all their eyes intact. Luce was closer to Aemond however, both forming a friendship of sorts, well a friendship of sarcasm and friendly insults.

Aegon resumed his ways of drinking and whoring himself much to the dismay of everyone. When the time came your grandsire himself attended all the feasts of your wedding despite his reclining health. Jace refused the bedding ceremony even when you said you were alright with it. Ever since that night you two became obsessed with each other, fucking like rabbits, the location and time never mattered either.

"What is it, sweet wife?" Jace asked. One of his hands sneaked down between your bodies rubbing a comforting hand over your bump before resuming down to your cunt. You sighed in relief at the feeling of his fingers toying with you pearl.

"I need you, lēkia" Brother. You mewled. Jace leaned down claiming your lips with his swallowing your sounds of pleasure. He pushed a finger inside of your sopping hole. Your head fell back, eyes screwed shut. He dropped his head down to your breasts, so full and big from feeding all your children. His lips unconsciously opened and wrapped around your right nipple and he began suckling.

After your wedding in a couple of moons while you were pregnant with your eldest your grandsire passed in his sleep leaving the throne for your mother. You were devastated but you knew life went on. Your mother made Jace the heir and sent you both to Dragonstone as the rightful owners. Ever since you lived there along with your children.

First came your sweet Maerion (now four and ten), a boy with your hair and eyes but was the spitting image of his father. Eleven moons later he was followed by Valaenya (Now four and ten), a girl who looked and acted as her father. She usually asked why she was your only daughter with her father's hair, that you loved so much. A year lated you had Gaelora (Now three and ten) who had your hair and eyes as well, the troublemaker who gave her father a run for his money, she always followed Jace and Maerion around with her own wooden sword and demanded to train alongside them. Your fourth child was born quiet much to your horror and had to be supervised for a while before he was handed to you alive and healthy, Rhaegor (One and ten) a boy with fair hair but brown eyes. He was a quiet kid and some people believed him mute but he only spoke when he felt like it. Your fifth and sixth children came together like you and Jace, your twins Daenerys and Daemion (Now ten of age). Daemion had his father's hair and your eyes while Daenerys had your hair, like Maerion, Gaelora and Rhaegor but her father's eyes. Daemion enjoyed sword fighting like his older brother Maerion and older sister Gaelora. Daenerys however enjoyed embroidery along with Valaenya and they usually made insect shaped handkerchiefs for their aunt Helaena who would send them ones back with their favourite flowers. Your seventh child who was now seven namedays, your girl Visenys who had your fair hair but her eyes were a dark violet looking almost black, she was a dreamer like Helaena which made you uneasy because sometimes she would wake up from nightmares or simply seeing visions leaving her shaken. You had ordered for her to always have a bottle of nightshade in her chambers for whenever she could no longer bare the dreams. She was fair haired but with her father's eyes and his height. Then came Saenya , she had your hair and eye colour, a girl of now five namedays, she was quiet and collected, barely cried even as a babe. She learned High Valyrian faster than the common tongue. She enjoyed playing with animals and already had two kittens she found in the gardens of the Keep. Your ninth child was a boy named Laenor in honours of your father, or the one in the public's eyes at least. He was brown haired but with lavender eyes. Your tenth child and last with surprisingly a gap of two years between him and his older brother, a boy with brown hair and eyes named Jaeron and he was one name day old.

"Shh sweet sister, your husband will care for you" Jace promised. He pushed himself down until he was face to face with your stomach, swollen with your eleventh child or maybe more from the size of it. He placed a kiss on a small bruise there from a kick earlier. He resumed down to your cunt, dripping with need.

he pushed three fingers inside of you, knowing you can take it. You moaned loudly running a hand down to touch your own clit. Jace let you knowing you got off to pleasuring yourself to the thought of him of course.

"Is this good, sweet wife?" Jace asked curling his fingers upwards. You arched your back off the bed, rolling your hips to take his fingers deeper.

"So good" You answered. He smirked leaned down to place a kiss on you clit as he pushed your hand away. His tongue took the job of abusing the button to your nerves and suckled.

"Yes!" You cried rolling your hips down onto his face. Jace slurped moving down to tease your opening with his tongue while his fingers pumped in and out of you. He shook his head from side to side rubbing the tip of his nose to your pearl.

"Cumming" You warned, you always came fast when pregnant. Something about him still desiring you while pregnant did it for you. Jace hummed against your private parts granting you release. You clenched your thighs around his head, probably strong enough to crush his skull, but he was a dragon and nothing hurt him. He loved suffocating against your pussy and if he were to die like this he would be happy. Your legs shook with each wave of pleasure before falling on the mattress again. Jacaerys lapped at your release not wanting to waste a single drop. You shivered overwhelmed with pleasure but did not complain.

"Did so well for me, sweet wife" Jace rose up to lay beside you. He helped you roll to your side. Your shuddered feeling him rub his cock against your entrance. You pushed your hips back needy.

"Fuck me, brother, please" You begged. Jace pushed his cock inside of you slowly to not hurt you. He pushed himself up so he could take your nipple on his mouth. His other hand moved to grope at the flesh of your behind bouncing with each snap of his hips. You cried curling your hands around the sheets. Jace moaned against your nipple as warm milk filled his mouth.

You were due any day now which is why you were in the keep, you always insisted on giving birth in the keep to be close to your mother who was too busy to travel to Dragonstone and back all the time. With the amount of children that you had she would have to move there instead of living in the Keep.

"Fuck, yes" You whined head rolling back. Jace quickened his pace feeling his balls are about to explode for you, for your cunt. His hand kneading your behind moved to your belly feeling your child move inside annoyed by the movement of your hips. He or she were probably dizzy from the movement.

"Harder, Jace, fuck me harder" You begged sobbing from the the pleasure. Your hand moved to tweak your other breast letting the milk roll down your fingers and soak the sheets. Your other hand moved down to play with your clit.

"Fuck darling" Jace growled, holding on to your hips, jackhammering inside of your hole. Your clenched around him, with the movement of his cock inside of you and your fingers teasing yourself you came with a loud cry that was probably heard by the entire Keep, you have heard people talk about you before about having heard you and Jace coupling. You smirked proudly back then knowing the women were jealous that your brother-husband was able to make you cum unlike their husbands.

"Good girl" Jace growled spilling his seed inside of you. You relaxed feeling exhausted from the act and being pregnant at the same time. You turned to look at Jace over your shoulder whining as he pulled out. He leaned over to kiss your lips sweetly.

"Let us bathe, mother is expecting us for supper" Jace reminded. You groaned annoyed allowing him to help you off the bed and over to the bathtub. The maids had gotten you water earlier to bath which was now cold but you did not care right now, it helped push down the temperature of your body from your coupling earlier.

After bathing you put on a simple gown, you had more pregnancy gowns than normal gowns at this point. You and Jace walked side by side to the great hall where the supper was to take place. Your children had their own table along with Luce's and Rhaena own three daughters, Aegon and Helaena's three children and your youngest brothers.

"Oh dear, come sit down" You mother moved to your other side to help you walk over to your seat. You sighed in relief once you no longer had to hold up your own weight.

"Thank you mother" You smiled brightly at her. Jace kissed your forehead before moving over to Luce so they could speak to one another.

"Are you alright, darling?" Your mother earned your attention again. You quirked up an eyebrow in confusion at her question.

"I- yes, why mother?" You tilted your head to the side. The sound of children's laughter sounded like music to your ears, it was like the balm to all your wounds and worth every second of pain you endured.

"I mean this is your eleventh child, are you not tired?" She asked. She placed a hand on your cheek as if you were a small child all over again.

"I am not, I enjoy it" You shrugged. Her eyes held a weirdness to them, she could not believe that someone enjoyed pregnancy, something so painful and exhausting.

"Are you sure? Is Jace forcing you? believe me I will punish-" You placed a finger to her lips making her stop talking. You giggled shaking your head from side to side. You turned to look at Jace laughing with Luce and Aemond about whatever men found fun. You could feel yourself growing wet again, he had grown to be the tallest one of them three and he had muscles that you heard rivalled those of Harwin Strong, your rumoured father.

"He is not forcing me, I want this" You could not even move your gaze away. Watching how his muscles flexed when he moved to pat Luce's shoulder. How his back tensed when Aegon joined before relaxing again seeing as Aegon was not drunk as usual.

"I see" You snapped back to reality and looked at your mother who was smirking at you. Your fave felt like it was on fire and you turned to look down on your belly, that covered your lap. Your hands ran over the smooth silk that covered your skin feeling butterflies in your stomach, or maybe your child or children were moving around.

"I am glad you are happy, dear" She patted your hand. You smiled at her nodding before it was wiped off quickly. You grabbed her hand forcefully making her pause shocked.

"My labours, mother" You explained. Her smile dropped and she immediately helped you back up calling Jace over to help you back to your rooms.

That night you had your eleventh child, a girl with white-blonde hair but some brown streaks popped through the tufts of hair and when she opened her eyes they were of different shaded, her right one was lavender and her left was dark brown so you named her Alyssa like your great-grandmother who had the same mismatching eyes just with different colours.

[jacesbeloved]

directory.

preface. — ✷ hi, i'm lore! currently studying at a uni in the ph so pls don't expect me to post and be active here as much </3 i'm trying to balance everything as much as i can lol, writing is a stress reliever of mine ! — ✷ i also have my own ko-fi account in case u guys want to buy me a ko-fi <3 any amount would be /incredibly/ appreciated since it is for my studies :3

writings. — ✷ notes. requests for hotd and got are currently open ! headcanons, thirsts, and simple chats are very much appreciated!!

— ✷ legends: ✧ = smut | ⚘ = fluff | ∅ = angst

house of the dragons jacaerys velaryon / targaryen

⊂⊃ for the kingdom: one, two, three, four [ ✧, ⚘ , ∅ ] ⊂⊃ knight in training [⚘ , ∅] ⊂⊃ midnight escapades [ ⚘ ] ⊂⊃ unexpected visit [ ⚘ ] ⊂⊃ remember me, always [ ∅ ] ⊂⊃ prettiest of them all [ ⚘ ] ⊂⊃ to have your hand… and, [ ⚘ ]

lucerys velaryon / targaryen ⊂⊃ amidst the waves: one, two, three, special [ ⚘ ] (finished)

aemond targaryen ⊂⊃ mirror, mirror [ ✧ ] ⊂⊃ beautiful [ ⚘ ] ⊂⊃ impatient [ ✧ ] ⊂⊃ ‘til the next holiday [ ✧ ] 

helaena targaryen ⊂⊃ a mirror into the past; dragon and wood [⚘ , ∅] ⊂⊃ tell me a story [ ⚘ ]

headcanons and quick blurbs

jace and reader fighting on who's better at high valyrian

taking care of jace when he’s drunk

jace taking care of you when you’re drunk

jace as your suitor 

sub!jace headcanons

Avatar (James Cameron) neteyam sully ⊂⊃ fucking flower [ ✧ ]