#jace velaryon fanfic
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catsteeth · 2 months ago
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Cold Steel Hot Skin
Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem Stark Reader 
+:✿ Request ✿:+ : part 2 - part 3
Request: “Jacaerys and FemStark!Reader have been betrothed during the whole war. Team Black wins the war and Rhaenyra is crowned queen. After Jace and the Reader are married, the night is filled with celebration. Reader pulls Jace away and gives him head while he's sitting on the throne. Sub!Jace with lots of praise and reassurance.”  CW: MDNI, SMUT, oral sex (m rec), afab reader, arranged marriage, NSFW themes, misogyny, mention of death, praise, sub jace, dom reader, mention of parental death.
Word Count: 5k
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You were prepared to marry a high-born son, you were prepared for it all your life. You were taught how to make a man happy. Watch your tongue, speak little, and never your mind. Do whatever your husband commands of you, give no resistance. Smile and stay amenable. Only you were not your mother's idea of a perfect wife by nature. 
No, you were raised alongside your brothers. You favored horse riding to sewing, archery to singing, and hunting to practicing your courtesies. 
However as the threat of war drew closer, the need for the North’s strength grew more desperate. The house of the dragon did not know whose head ruled it. Aegon the drunken prince or Rhaenyra the king's firstborn. Both the greens and the blacks came to your brother, Cregan Stark who now ruled as warden of the north. They wanted the North's strength to earn their power. 
Cregan only bent his knee to Rhaenyra after he spoke with Prince Jacaerys. The men were similar in age and he felt the Prince would be better suited to the throne than his uncle. 
Though armies and power are not handed to anyone for free, in return for the North’s support, Cregan asked that his sisters be considered for one of the Queen's sons to wed, or perhaps one of his brothers for one of her nieces. 
You hoped desperately that you would be spared from this fate. You never had any interest in men or marriage. Your septa’s always told you to obey your husband. That if you didn’t perhaps he would hit you, or take you by force. Honestly, you feared a husband, they sounded like horrid creatures.
It took time to hear back, but soon a raven arrived. It said what you feared it might. The crowned prince himself would take the north’s eldest daughter to wed. 
You practiced holding your tongue and putting on a smile. You found it easy not to speak, speaking would do you no good anyway. But forcing a smile was a difficulty. 
You fidgeted with the beaded embellishments of the embroidery on your dress. Biting your cheek you stood by the door of your house's great hall. Listening to your brother and the prince speaking. “My prince, my sister Lady Stark.”
You looked at the prince cautiously. Though he was not as frightful as you thought he might be. He was quite handsome. But that did not mean he was kind. You curtseyed as you were taught to do hundreds of times. “I hope I do not disappoint you, my prince.” You spoke in a higher and softer tone than you did naturally. 
Jace took your hand, kissing your knuckles gently, “You could never, my Lady.”
He seemed gentle, and kind. 
Your fears did not rest, however. He was kind in front of you brother, a large and imposing man. That did not mean he would be kind when away from peering eyes. 
The ride in the carriage felt uncomfortable. You were frightened by him in honesty. You knew that you would wed a high-born man but never did you think you’d marry a prince, and never did you think you would become a queen.
You were unsure of him, unsure of what he was like. Would he hit you? Would he yell? He was to be the king, surely he could do whatever he liked. 
Your unease only worsened when your eyes fell back onto him, noticing that he was still looking at you. 
As soon as he noticed your uneasy gaze, he smiled to himself and looked down “I apologize I am staring.” he said shaking his head. 
You shrugged, “That’s alright. I am to be yours by law, you may stare at me if you wish to.” You were trained for this moment, this was your first willing submission.
Jace’s eyes looked up at you, his gaze narrowed at you in confusion, “I do not own you, my Lady.” He leaned forward towards you, “If I do something to displease you I wish to know.”
You felt surprised, not only was this man willing for you to be your own person but he encouraged it. He wanted you to be a participant in his life and this marriage. 
You took a breath, then dropped your doe-like expression. Replacing it with your natural stern demeanor, common in the North. “Why are you staring at me?” You asked plainly now in your natural tone. It made Jace smile. “If I do truly disappoint I have other sisters-” 
“You do not. I did not lie.” Jace interrupted you, it almost made you flinch. Perhaps you were too bold with your words. Though his eyes softened towards you, letting you relax in the warmth of his gaze. “I do not want your sisters or any other woman.” Once again he surprised you. How could he say such a thing when he did not know you? Even if he believed you to be the most beautiful woman in the world, for all he knew you could have been the most cruel woman alive. “I am staring because I am taken by you.” He finished with a soft grin.
You blushed slightly. Feeling a grin beginning to tug at the corners of your mouth, you looked away from him. “You do not know me.” You said, shaking your head.
Jace chuckled to himself, “You are skeptical. I know that now.” 
You smiled slightly at his amusement, “People should be.” you said with a raised brow. 
He smiled as he bit his lip, “And now I know you are intelligent.” he said with a nod. 
You could not hide your smile this time. You scoffed a laugh as you looked outside your carriage, noticing the large green beast in the sky flying above you. “I thought you would be on your dragon.” You said looking towards Vermax in the sky. 
“I wanted time to speak plainly with you, and Vermax is not yet big enough for two,” Jace said earnestly. You felt yourself beginning to relax in his presence. 
You looked back to Jace, “Not sure how I would fare on a dragon's back.” you said with a stifled laugh. 
“I think you’ll do fine considering you’re a skilled horse rider,” Jace said with a smirk as your eyes widened. 
Once again this prince had surprised you. You narrowed your eyes at him and leaned in forward, “You do know about me.” 
Jace smiled, stifling a laugh as he looked down, “I confess I might have read quite a bit about your family before coming here.” He looked back at you, “And then I found that I was reading quite a bit about you.” He said as if he were admitting a great secret. 
He was not lying either. When prompted with the offer of marriage, Jace was hesitant. He even suggested wedding his little brother Joffrey to one of your younger sisters. But once he began to read of your family, he found himself wanting to know more and more about you. He found himself fascinated by you, and once there was nothing left to read about you he decided he’d rather marry you. 
You felt heat dash across your cheeks as your blush revealed how much he’d flattered you. “A dull read for a Prince, I am sure.” 
He shook his head, “Far from it.” He said earnestly, his eyes looking at you as if you were a beautiful and extravagant painting. 
You and he talked the entire ride to the ship to Dragonstone. He continued to ask you questions about yourself throughout the ride. You did not ask him any in return. You did not know what to ask, what could you ever have in common with a prince? 
꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱
Once at Dragonstone, most of your days were spent completing errands for the queen, or if you were lucky, sharing a thought or opinion at the small council. She thought it was important for you to participate as you were to be queen one day.
You also spent much of your time avoiding the prince. You caught him staring at you many times, and his gaze lingered on you as you walked through a room. 
But you hardly had a moment alone to yourself. You had nary a moment to ride a horse, practice your swordplay, or even read. So once you were able to be alone, you decided to practice your archery. Although you did not know that the prince also shared that desire. 
At The top of a tall hill, was a training field. It had tall wooden targets made specifically for practicing your arrow's aim. As you made your way up the steep path to the top, you were caught off guard by the sound of an arrow hitting a wooden target that stood mere inches from where the path ended. 
You continued up the path, peering behind the wooden target to see Jace pointing his crossbow at that same target. “My prince.” You said calmly despite his aim. 
“My Lady!” Jace said surprised, and pointing the crossbow away from you, “My apologies.”
“No need.” You shrugged, “I am not maimed.”
He stifled a laugh, “I should hope not.”
You approached the wooden target, looking at the arrow that had pierced it with clear ferocity as the wood splintered and broke from the impact, “That’s quite the shot.” You said as your fingers trailed along the arrow.
“Thank you-”
You leaned against the wooden target, “Whom did you imagine it to be?” you asked looking back toward Jace.
Jace hesitated unsure if he should say, “A green.” You could tell by his tone he was holding back the truth.
“Liar.” You said with a grin. Jace looked at you surprised, never had anyone dared question him other than his family. It was refreshing to have you challenge him, “I am sure it was a green but it was more personal than that.” You said pushing yourself off of the wooden target and walking towards Jace.
“Aemond Targaryen.” He said almost immediately. You stopped your steps, feeling somewhat guilty you forced him to divulge such a personal matter. You knew of what happened to his brother. 
You looked at him gently, “Aemond should be frightened.” You said earnestly. 
“They all should be.” He said, attempting to direct his attention towards anything else, “My mother's armies are fierce and unrelenting.” 
“As are you.” You said softly as you continued to walk closer toward him, “Grief is a powerful thing, the want for vengeance even more so.”
Jace felt emotion getting the better of him. But seeing as he was to marry you, he might as well feel able to confide in you, “I miss him.” Jace said weakly.
You were silent for a moment. Unsure of how you could comfort him. But soon you spoke, “I lost mine own sister.” Jace looked at you, “She too was younger than I.” You said with a nod stepping towards him, “I am sure you read about it. It was the cold that took her. The cold wind brings sickness. It makes us northerners stronger, we suffer each sickness so that we never suffer them again.” You stopped speaking for a moment, unsure of how you could continue your story, “But for those who are too weak, too small, too fragile… The cold wind kills them.” You looked at Jace with understanding, another name for love, “I spent years angry at any gust of cold air I felt. I cannot imagine how you feel. To have a face and a name to place that anger.” Jace only looked at you, he never had someone who could understand him so well. He didn’t have the words. But you didn’t need them. You approached him, getting close to his side as you adjusted his grip on his crossbow. “You should hold the stock closer to your shoulder.” you said pushing it to the correct position for him. 
Jace looked over his shoulder to you, “I think I am in love with you.” He spoke earnestly, and softly. 
You looked back at him, “I know you are.” you spoke as earnestly as he did. 
Jace dropped his crossbow. He put your face into his hands, cupping your jaw gently. He looked at you for just a moment. He was going to ask for your permission to kiss you but you pressed your lips to his before he could. “I don’t know how I was ever frightened by you.” You smiled as he stifled a laugh and kissed you again.
You and he from that moment forth, were nearly inseparable. 
꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱
After the war was fought and over, the Blacks were victorious in their goal to retake Rhaeynra’s rightful throne. Blood was shed of course, but now that it was done with it was time for celebration. And what better way to celebrate than for a royal wedding? 
Your gown was heavy, and although you had little regard for fashions even you could appreciate how beautiful it was. 
You never thought you’d feel so proud to wear another man's cloak, adorned with the symbol and colors of his house. But you wore the black and red three-headed dragon on your shoulders with great pride and honor. 
Your pride did not subside the whole evening. After your vows and kiss were performed, you and your now husband danced in the great hall as the rest of the guests ate, sang, and danced about the room.
Jace held you closely as you danced slowly. Your eyes locked onto his, and both of you were simply dazed with happiness and love. “My husband, the dragon.” You said sweetly with your forehead pressed against his. 
Jace’s hand ran over your hair gently, careful not to disturb your intricately braided hair, “My wife, the wolf.” He said with a proud and love-drunk smile. 
Your eyes roamed the room, you could see each high-born girl looking at you with jealous eyes. It made you grin, “I think I have made every girl in the seven kingdoms green with envy.” you said leaning into Jace, your eyes still scanning the room. 
“And I have driven every man to a jealous rage.” He said with an amused smile as his eyes roamed the room as well.
“Because you’ll be king over them all.” You said gently as you closed your eyes, laying your head against his shoulder. 
He leaned in closer to your ear, “Because I’ve married the most beautiful, intelligent, and fierce woman in the known world.” He said sweetly. 
You raised your head from his shoulder, looking into his eyes. You could see the love he had for you just by his look. You did not care if it would be considered polite or not, your lips pressed against his own. He did not care either. His hand held you at the nape of your neck. 
“Daughter,” A voice called out, it startled you slightly. Daughter was a title you had not been called in years now with your parent’s cold in the crypt. You looked over to see the Queen herself. Rhaenyra looked towards her son, still holding tightly onto you. “Might I have a moment, Jace?” Jace nodded and gave you a small kiss on your temple before leaving you and your mother to speak. 
Rhaenyra took you by the arm, walking around the ballroom. “Well, I know your mother could not be here today and I suppose I wanted to give you a word of motherly advice. Political marriage can be a difficult thing to adjust to.” She said with a sigh, “Though it seems my son has had no difficulty in that regard, nor you.” She finished as she looked at you with a warm smile.
You smile back at her, though feeling somewhat embarrassed, “Your son is an honorable man, and I am honored to be his wife.” You said with a nod.
She rubbed your arm gently with her hand, “I have no doubts you will serve our house well.”
“I can only hope so. Your house has been most gracious-”
“Your house.” She corrected you, “It is your house now, my dear.” 
You did not know what to say, you’d not felt a motherly touch in so long. “Thank you, your grace.” You said with a smile and respectful nod.
“Seven blessings to you, my dear.” She said smiling, before leaving you. 
Afterward, you tried your best to reunite with your new husband, only he was nowhere to be found. As you walked around the great hall you were approached by many guests, all high-born lords and ladies who never paid you any mind before today. They all congratulated you with great respect and spoke oh so highly of you and your family. No doubt attempting to gain favor in the eyes of their future queen. Between this sudden overbearing attention, you now could not help but notice how grand this wedding was. It was far more extravagant than any wedding in the north had ever been. 
You drowned your nerves with wine. But you wouldn’t feel any better until you found Jace again. 
꒰ ୨୧ ─
Once the party was dying out like an exhausted candle, you were determined to find Jace once again.
Somewhat angry and somewhat concerned you attempted to hunt down the prince without causing concern. Soon you were pushing open the large heavy doors to the throne room.
Pushing the door open just enough to look in, you signed as you saw your husband standing in the room staring at the throne.
“I thought you ran away.” You said pushing the doors to the Throne room open. 
Jace looked over his shoulder at you and held out his hand towards you, “From the festivities. Not from you.” 
You grabbed hold of his hand, “I was quite miserable without you.” You said in annoyance with a pout as he pulled you into his side. 
His hand trailed up and down over your back soothingly, “I am sorry. I shouldn’t have left you, I won’t again, I swear it to you.” He said as his hand then snaked around your waist holding you even closer.
You nodded in agreement, “The celebration was generous, far more generous than I am used to.” You said trying not to sound ungrateful. Your fingers trailed over the lavish embroidery of dragons and fire on Jace’s overcoat. “I was happy to hear there would be no bedding ceremony,” you said casually just to tease him, your eyes still following your finger as it traced the intricate stitching of his coat.
Jace’s eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed, “You think that I would allow that?” He said with a slightly aggressive tone as he held you by your chin forcing you to look at him, “Allowing men to paw at you?” 
You couldn’t keep up your facade and your grin gave away your intentions. Jace let your chin go as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “Such a protective husband you are proving to be.” You said as you kissed the corner of his mouth, “Still even if there is no ceremony-” You kissed the sensitive bit between his jawline and his neck, making him hiss, “I was rather excited for what comes after the wedding.” you said with a luscious gaze.
Jace couldn’t help but widely grin as he stifled a chuckle, “No one is more eager than I am.” He said caressing your cheek, “I just,” He sighed, “I find myself overwhelmed.”
“The war is over, and won.” You said softly, “You should be happy.” 
“I am happy.” He said assertively, not wanting you to think otherwise. Then he sighed as he looked towards the throne, “The burden is a heavy one.”
You looked towards the throne as well, “The crown was never meant to be light.” Your eyes then went back to Jace, “Those who are best fit for it proceed it in caution, not enthusiasm.” You already spoke with the wisdom of a queen.
“Are you so comfortable to assume the position of queen?” Jace asked defensively, he did not always like being proven wrong.
You were not upset by his question, “No. Quite the opposite.” You said with a shake of your head, “I always valued my privacy. Never liked having eyes on me, never liked people talking about me.” 
“Perhaps you would have been happier to marry a different man.” He sulked.
You narrowed your brows, “Is that how you feel?” You questioned him assertively, sick of his self-pity. 
His demeanor changed, becoming softer, “No.” He said holding your jaw gently, “I do not want anyone else.” 
You placed a hand on his that held your face, “I know this marriage was arranged but I am happier for it. You are an honorable man, who will make a great king.” You spoke gently.
Jace shook his head, “I have no doubt you will be a beloved queen. You are wise and caring. Born of a noble house.” He said looking at you with admiration.
“As are you.“ You said, wanting him to see himself worthy of his inheritance. 
Jace shook his head and looked down as if he were ashamed, “You know what I am.”
You rolled your eyes, “I care not for such trivial matters. You are the son of the rightful queen.” 
“And a bastard.” He said frustrated  
“And I thank the gods for it.” You said stoically, “I have a taste for men with dark hair.” Your hand combed through his dark curls.
“Funny.” He said without amusement, “But what will people think of a bastard as their king? What will they think of our children-”
“When you take the throne you will no longer be a Velaryon. You will be a Targaryen. That is not a lie. Our children will be Targaryens, that is not a lie.” You interrupted him, already defensive over your future children, “You are a dragon rider, a brave and… handsome man.” You said, trailing off in the end as your eyes admired his features, “I think you just need to get adjusted to the role is all.” You said as you took Jace’s hand, pulling him towards the Throne. “Sit.” You commanded, and be obeyed, 
Jace sat on the throne, and you were overcome with desire. He looked so powerful, and he fit in it so perfectly. There was no one else better suited to it. 
Jace however did not share your feelings, “This is foolish-” He began about to push himself out of the throne.
“Wait,” You said, placing a hand on his chest, pushing him back onto the throne. You smirked at him as you stepped closer towards him, now standing between his legs, “I quite like the look of you in this chair.” You said as you ran your hand through his hair somewhat roughly, making him look up to you. 
Jace grinned, “I quite like the look of you in this gown.” He said as his eyes trailed over your body in the ivory gown.
“Do you like it like this?” You asked as your fingers pulled at the laces of your gown, making it loosen around your shoulders, “Or like this?” You asked as your bare shoulders became exposed and you hiked up your skirts and straddled Jace’s lap.
Overcome by desire, Jace’s hands roamed your body with an untamable want, and his lips found yours with a deep hunger. Since your time in the training yard, you and Jace had kissed many, many, many times. But this was desperate, this was longing. His tongue found your own, and you never knew the warmth that would come with it. This kind of kiss was new. 
You moved your mouth to his neck, kissing down until you were unbuttoning his shirt desperate for more skin to kiss. 
He could not help but lean into your affections. His hands grasped harder onto your sides, his lips found your exposed skin. The pleasure sent a chill through your spine. You felt a candle light between your legs. Desperate for more, you began to grind your clothed cunt against his mounting excitement.
You smirked as you heard Jace gasp at your bold movements, “We can’t, not in here-” He said breathlessly.
“Why not? You’re the king.” You said softly with a gentle kiss to his neck, “My king.” You smirked at him as you opened his overcoat and blouse, admiring his body that was new to you. “You’ve kissed me before have you not? You are to fuck me tonight are you not? Why can I not sample you?” You asked sweetly, but darkly as you kissed down his chest, over his stomach, until you were kneeling in front of him between his knees as he sat on the throne. 
As your hand gently grazed over his thighs, he cupped your cheek gently. “You make me weak. I can’t contain my urges.” He said with a weak smile, too love-drunk to think.
You shook your head, “I don’t want them contained.” You said as you kissed the bulge his throbbing cock was creating beneath his constricting trousers. 
Jace tried but failed to conceal his moan of pleasure, “I’ll do whatever my queen commands of me.” he spoke breathlessly, his eyes already begging to roll back in ecstasy though he tried to maintain his composure. 
You rested your head against his thigh, teasingly close to his cock. Your eyes were that of a siren of the sea as you looked up at him, “I only wish to serve…” Your hand began to trail over toward the silk laces of his trousers, “My king.” you said as you began to free him from the confines of his clothing.
He gasped again as he watched you, “Gods be good.” 
You pulled the expensive fabric of his wedding attire down and his cock eagerly sprung out. You smirked as you looked at it, “Fit for a king.” You said with a smirk, reaching for his length, but stopping just inches before you could touch him, “Can I?” You wanted to be certain before you did it, and he eagerly and desperately nodded. As you took him in your hand he groaned in pleasure. You stroked it slowly, almost painfully slow. With each stroke, you were fixated on the noises you were drawing out of him. Desperate for more, You licked up his shaft before taking him in your mouth, or as much of him as you could take. Sucking slowly and gently, his moans and the lewd sounds from your mouth echoed throughout the empty throne room. As you released him from your mouth desperate for air, you continued to stroke him, “You taste so good.” You said breathlessly. 
Jace mewled, and took a deep breath, trying his best not to finish right then and there, “You feel so good, your mouth feels so so good.” He whined beautifully, throwing his head back against the cold steel of the throne.
You began to kiss the tip of his cock, savoring the taste of his precum as it leaked from him, “You like it?” You asked teasingly innocent. 
“Y-yes.” He stammered as he groaned
You suddenly stopped your movements, ceasing all attention you were giving him, it was enough to drive him mad as he groaned in agony, “Have you ever had a woman touch you like this?” You asked leaning your head against his thigh, as if you were completely unaware of the torture you were putting him through. 
He shook his head eagerly, “N-no, only you.”
You smirked as you took him back in your hand, “You truly are an honorable man.” You gave his cock a final kiss before you turned your attention towards his balls, taking one in your mouth. You were unfamiliar with what you were doing but somehow it came naturally. Your desire drove you in the right direction. Sucking on him as you stroked his cock.
This sensation was all too new for Jace, he threw his head back and moaned erratically, “F-f-f” he stammered
You released him, followed by a lewd noise, “You can curse.” You told him, knowing what he wanted to do. 
“Fuck…” He said as if he had resurfaced after being drowned, He looked down at you longingly, “Can I touch you?” He asked desperately. 
You couldn’t help but smile at his sweetness, “Of course, my king.” you said with a nod, taking him back in your mouth again.
His hands went to your head, petting your hair sweetly, being sure to keep your hair out of your face. His moaning only got louder, “Awh, thank you- thank you.” He whined, “You’re so beautiful.” He said as he watched you lovingly stroke and suck on his throbbing length. You squeezed him in a particular way that made his muscles twitch, “Awh! I love you-” He said, his mind empty, but meaning every word. 
You released him for just a moment to breathe, “Say it again.” you commanded before taking in your mouth again. 
You could feel his grip on your hair tightening, “I love-” He nodded, and you began to stroke fast, suck harder, “Awh!” he moaned out in pleasure as your moments picked up, “I love you, with everything I have.” He spoke breathlessly, “My wife, my queen.” 
You could feel his body tensing underneath your touch, you could feel his cock throbbing when harder, his breath and moans more erratic. You knew what was coming, so you did what he hoped to all the Gods that you wouldn’t do, and you stopped. You released him from your mouth and your touch. “Uh-uh.” You said standing up, and pulling your gown back up around your shoulders.
Jace looked at you with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows, “You tease me?” he asked desperately, attempting to catch his breath. 
You smirked at the sight in front of you, he sprawled out on the throne nearly fully exposed, “I want you to spill inside me. How else am I to give you children?” You said in a teasing tone. 
Jace huffed but smirked, knowing his release was going to be something he earned. He pushed himself back into his trousers and stood. 
He smirked at you as he began to rush you out of the throne room, no doubt towards your now shared chambers. Stopping for a moment to push you against the throne room doors to kiss you, tasting himself on your tongue. 
As your kiss was released you smiled at him, “I love you, you know?” you spoke gently.
He stifled a laugh and nodded, “I know you do.” he said before kissing you once more before pushing you out of the room and chasing you toward your chambers. 
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starogeorgina · 3 months ago
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𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬
Paring: Jacaerys Targaryen x reader
Warnings: Swearing, smut
1.01
“His heart beats for blood. Blood and fire.”
Jacaerys stares at his betrothed from across the room, watching as she mumbles to herself while flicking through the same book he’s seen her read many times, her heavy-looking eyes often fixated on the same page for a long period of time. He was informed the library and Sept were the only places she would visit outside her private chambers since Aemond killed his brother.
The last time Jace’s family were all together, in King’s landing, King Viserys declared his youngest daughter and eldest grandson were to be wed, with the intention of mending the rift between House Targaryen once and for all.
But that wasn’t what happened.
His betrothed was visibly happy and very vocal about how excited she was to start planning the wedding with his mother. Then his grandsire died, his mother’s throne was usurped, and his unborn sister died. Since returning from Winterfell Jacaerys, the princess hasn’t even glanced in his direction; she was avoiding him, which stung. Jace had never felt so alone; he always had Lucerys by his side before. Perhaps the princess was hiding herself away out of fear of being treated badly for what her brothers, mother, and grandsire had done to his family.
Not that he thought of her any differently; if anything, the young prince pitted her.
Jacaerys watches her for a few moments longer then decides it’s best to leave the princess be; no point in disturbing someone who is seeking isolation.
You stop making alterations to the tunic you were embroidering when you hear the door to the chambers you were currently occupying being opened; without looking back, you know who it is. When the footsteps don’t go any further than the doorway, you start threading the needle again.
Every corner you turn, you feel dark eyes burning a hole into you. Nothing that you could say would undo the pain inflicted already. Your mind begins to wonder again, and you don’t notice Jace moving until he’s sitting next to you at the wooden desk. He was looking directly at you, but you avoided meeting his gaze.
“My Prince.”
He takes a sharp intake of breath, “I hold no ill will towards you.”
The funeral for Lucerys was held earlier that day, just before the sun began to set. You watched from afar as Rhaenyra crumpled to pieces, and the rest of her family sobbed, mourning the loss of such a sweet boy. It would have been wrong for you to join them when someone you cared for dearly caused them so much pain.
“How can you not? My twin is the reason you won’t get to see Luke again.”
Jacaerys says nothing to your response. What could he say? You sit in silence, watching Jace’s finger trace over the outline of a dragon on the tunic. “It’s unfinished; it was meant to be a gift for after the wedding.”
A small smile pulls on his lips. “It’s Vermax.”
Regardless of the awful things that had happened, you wanted to remain on Dragonstone but doubted you’d be able to stay long. You were nothing but a reminder of what Aemond had done.
“What’s on your mind?”
You finally looked up and met his eyes, which are glossy from holding back tears. In comparison, your own issues seem minuscule, but you share what’s bothering you anyway. “I don’t want to go back home.”
“This is your home.”
“I’m afraid.”
Giving you a sympathetic look, Jace uses the pad of his thumb to rub circles on the back of your hand. Comforting touches weren’t something you were familiar with, but you liked the warmth coming from his hand.
“You’re safe inside these walls. I won’t let anybody come in here and hurt you.”
“I’m afraid of Dae—”
You’re cut off when there’s a knock at the door and Rhaenyra’s handmaiden, Elinda, walks into the room. You expected Jace to remove his thumb, but instead he squeezed your hand.
Elinda greets you both, “Princess, the queen wishes to speak with you.”
Staring into Rhaenyra's eyes was like staring down a dragon. Her fury was evident the moment you entered her quarters; you had seen Daemon storming in the opposite direction and presumed he had something to do with the queen's foul mood. You were thankful when she went to stand by the window.
“I believe my son was in your bedchamber when I sent for you. Is that correct?”
“No, I mean—“ you begin to stumble over your words. “Yes, he was there, Prince Jacaerys came to speak with me.”
“Nothing that could have waited until the morrow, I’m sure.”
Her expression was hard to read. Although she didn’t say anything else, you felt the need to explain further. “I told him I didn’t want to go back to King's Landing, and he told me this was my home. He said, I'm safe here.”
“Why would you believe any differently?”
“Nowhere is safe.”
Rhaenyra uncrosses her arms, her expression softening. “Nobody under my rule will harm you, but I must share this with you.”
Elinda hands you a scroll. Confused, you take it from her, “I don’t understand why someone would write to me.”
You open it nervously and read it. Your lips parted slightly; Rhaenyra asks what it says, but you’re unable to answer her. Elinda looks at it and lets out a small gasp, “It’s from Aegon. He’s demanding the princess return to King’s Landing at once.”
You take the scroll and toss it into the fireplace. “It may have my brother’s signature, but that is my grandsire and mother talking.”
“Elinda, leave us for a moment.” Rhaenyra lets out a frustrated sigh. When it’s just the two of you, she asks, “Do you wish to stay here, on Dragonstone?”
“Yes,” you say, taking a step towards her. “I understand if you want me to leave, but please don’t make me go back to them.”
Seeing the desperation in your eyes, she nods. “We may not be close, but you are my youngest sister. I know you are innocent.”
“I miss Helaena and her sweet children.” You begin to sob, “I was so quick to leave with you for Dragonstone that I never went and saw father before I left. I never said goodbye to him.”
“Neither of us knew what would happen.” Rhaenyra caresses your cheek in a motherly manner. “Jacaerys is right, you are safe here.”
Dragonstone was much darker and colder than what you were used to; your hair always feels damp even when it’s dry. You found the sounds of waves crashing around the island comforting.
But not as comforting as being held by Jacaerys.
You expected the prince to have returned to his own quarters, but he was waiting on you to return. You were sitting on the edge of the table with your legs dangling over the edge, Jacaerys forehead pressed against your own while he held you close.
The both of you were lonely, hurt, and scared.
“Won’t you get in trouble for being here so late?”
“We will be married soon,” Jacaerys says, stepping back. “Will we share a room when we are married?”
“I was told that women only lay with their husbands for a couple of nights a month, but everyone who I know who does it seems unhappy. Would you want us to always share a bedchamber?”
“Yes.”
Smiling, you peck him on the lips. “Sorry, that was inappropriate of me.”
“It’s okay.” He closes his eyes. “I hope the war ends soon so my mother can sit on her throne, and you can be my wife.”
You chuckle slightly. “As happy as I am to be your wife, I’m scared for our wedding night. My mother told me sex is painful for a woman.”
“It’s not always.”
“Wait, have you...” You don’t finish the question; the thought of him bedding someone else made you feel sick.
“No, but my stepfather is Daemon Targaryen,” he chuckles. “He always told me it was important for everyone involved to feel pleasure.”
“I was just told to grip the sheets while waiting for it to be over and that only men feel good.”
Jace’s lips ghost your own, his breath warm on your face. “Have you ever felt pleasure before?”
“Yes… kind of, have you.”
Jacaerys cheeks flush red as he nods.
“I touched myself once, but I didn’t put my fingers inside.”
“Why not?”
“It’s a sin for a woman to touch themselves for desire. I went to the sept immediately afterwards and didn’t do it again.”
“Sweet girl,” Jace kisses your cheek. “I’ll never touch you anymore than you want me to.”
You hug again, but this time Jace’s head is pressed against the side of your neck. You still like that in a comfortable silence until you feel him lightly kissing your neck. He pauses waiting for your reaction; a moan slips from your mouth, and you tighten your grip, going around Jace’s back, encouraging him. “Do it again, please.”
Jacaerys starts kissing up your neck until he reaches your jawline. Lifting his head, your noses brush together, “Can I make you feel good now?”
You take Jacaerys hand and guide it underneath your skirts, helping him find the sensitive spot that brings you such pleasure.
“Oh fuck!”
Jace shushes you with a kiss, “We need to be quiet.”
You hold onto his shoulders tightly as he rubs circles on your clit until you climax.
Smiling Jacaerys kisses you again, “It’s late; we should get some rest; the morrow will come soon enough.”
“Can you stay a little longer?”
He takes your hand and helps you off the table. “Yes, but I’ll need to go before the handmaidens come in the morning.”
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coryosbaby · 7 months ago
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loser!jace velaryon with a slight older and dommy reader. she loves teasing him in public settings till he begs and then overstimming him to tears. maybe a mommy kink in there sometime. god i love jace.
18+, MDNI !!
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LOSER! JACE VELARYON, to start off, has had a crush on his betrothed since he was a child. He thought he could never have a chance with such a beautiful and alluring woman, a goddess in disguise as a human being. But when it was time for him to find a wife, boy was he surprised. She had fucked him stupid before the two of them were even wed.
LOSER! JACE VELARYON had never been experienced. He had heard about the acts of sex from the men around him because of the prostitutes they took to bed. But he was raised better than that and he didn’t see a point in those sort of indulgences.
Until he met her. Then he became the neediest and most infatuated man. He even grew out the locks of his hair so she could yank on it more when he enjoyed his meal— the one between her thighs, of course.
LOSER! JACE VELARYON starts calling his wife mommy. Mummy, to be exact, because of his accent, but for the sake of the word let’s just say mommy. He doesn’t know exactly where the satisfaction from the word derived from. He thinks it may be because she’s a tad bit older than him and makes him feel nurtured and loved.
And Gods, does he sound so beautiful and sweet when he says it. It slips off his tongue in pretty, whiny words. “Mommy, can I touch you here?” “Mommy, I need you.” “Mommy, you’re so warm.” It’d be a shame if no one got to experience the desperate sound of his cracking voice when he’s just on the cusp of release.
Which is why his wife decides to tease him. LOSER! JACE VELARYON is at a wedding celebration when her palm skims over his most perfect spot. She notices the way his thighs tense up and he tries to keep composure— he’s in a seat at the dinner table, but that doesn’t mean the others around him aren’t at risk of noticing.
LOSER! JACE VELARYON tries not to sound so whiny when the men of the court ask him questions. He grabs ahold of her hand that’s squeezing him— a beg to stop this now, because this is important, mommy, because we can’t do that— but he can’t resist her for long. No, it’s a mere five minutes before he’s excusing him and his wife for a leave to one of the mostly empty corridors, his eyes on her corseted back and imagining the way she looks spread open on his fat cock. Gods, he can’t wait.
LOSER! JACE VELARYON is pushed against the stone wall of the corridor, eyes rolling and mouth falling open when his wife drops to her knees. She looks beautiful, a true Targaryen beauty. He’s never seen someone so perfect. His hand finds its way into her hair— it isn’t done up like usual. She must’ve been expecting this.
Her fingers deftly undo his trousers, smiling when his girthy length slaps up against his stomach. He’s all flushed pink and wet, aching for a hole to fill, and she knows it.
“What a naughty boy you are,” she teases, in that angelic lilt of hers. She trails a finger up his length, and he lets out a groan. “Getting all worked up in front of all those people. Tell me, husband. What do you think they’d do if they knew their little Velaryon prince was whining like a girl for his beloved’s mouth?”
He bites his lip, eyes scrunching closed.
“They would think…” he breathes out a sigh when her tongue laps at him teasingly. “They would think im a whore, mommy.”
“That’s right, sweet one. Because that’s what you are, isn’t it?”
He nods, because he knows it’s the truth. Her hand wraps around him and lightly tugs. His hips move against the sensation, and his wrist moves up to be bitten by his teeth. She notices, and grabs his elbow. His arm is back at his side in a second, clutching onto the cool surface of the stone wall.
“No,” she says. “Let them all hear you, little prince. Let them hear you when I taste this sweet cock.”
He lets out a whine, watching as she takes his glittering, pink head into your soft mouth. She suckles him gently, playfully, and hums like a kitten at the taste of his precum. He’s delicious. She could eat him up for hours.
LOSER! JACE VELARYON is soon crying, tears streaming down his cheeks as she works her hand over him still, her fingers dripping with his first—second?— release. He can still hear the ongoing party as he shakes against the wall. He doesn’t know how long it’s been.
“Mommy. Mommy, it’s too much, please..”
“Don’t be difficult, Jace. Don’t you want to make me proud?”
Fuck, he wants it so bad he can’t breathe. He nods, plump lip quivering. He wonders when the party will be over…
LOSER! JACE VELARYON lets out a tiny whimper of fear when he hears the sounds of footsteps moving down the corridor. He comes to his senses for a mere moment, regardless of the fact that his wife’s hand is still pumping his cock. But she’s clever and she’s calm— she presses her hand to his shoulder and uses the leverage to push him against the corner of the corridor, a corner that has an extra wall built onto it and makes a tiny nook of secrecy and disretion. Jace hears the voices of his relative Alicent Hightower and her traitor knight, Sir Criston. Vastly approaching still, while his beloved’s hand works his dick, she speaks in a hushed whisper.
“Filthy, naughty boy. Cock out and covered in cum. You just couldn’t wait, could you?”
He can’t help it. LOSER! JACE VELARYON cries out his wife’s name, face twisted into carnal pleasure, and cums. Creamy white squirting all over her wrist and dress, balls drawn up tighter than a rubber band. He thinks she might’ve put a spell on him, this woman.
She smiles, listening to the awkward and rushed sound of Alicent and Sir Criston leaving the corridor when they realize the adultery occurring. Jace’s wife brings her fingers up to her mouth and gently sucks the spend off her thumb.
“You’re doing so good for mommy. I think you can handle one more. Don’t you think, little prince?”
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:: @mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper @becauseseaotters @emmalandry @princesstiti14 @aerangi @kaithoughs @jamespotterismydaddy @wildgirllz
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eldrith · 5 months ago
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How about a sneak peak of the request ''escaped from the greens, reader..." pls🥹
anything for you darling! sneak peek (0.6k) below the cut <3 [also this is angsty bc it is a slow burn fic, but not all of it will be haha. this is the best i can give without giving too much away]
YOU ARE NOT ALONE THE NEXT TIME YOU RETURN TO THE ALCOVE OVERLOOKING THE SEA.
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The moon casts a peculiar glassy reflection upon the deep; lit by torches along the ramparts, you walk with your mind in the clouds, still stuck up where you’d just been, flying with your shadow. 
You do not anticipate encountering anyone this late; A wry smile tugs at your lips as you stow the leather gloves you'd been given, their purpose fulfilled.
The Cannibal remains ever wild and unyielding - for safety’s sake, the dragon handlers have entrusted you with his tending, leaving you weary yet resolute.
As you make the final ascent to the overlook, you nearly collide with a figure seated upon the banister—a figure you had not anticipated.
“Gods!” you exclaim, your hand rising instinctively in a half-hearted gesture of defense. The figure swivels sharply at the sound, and you take an instinctive step back, the suddenness of the encounter leaving your heart racing.
Your eyes widen in recognition as you find Jacaerys, perched upon the banister, his gaze ensnared by yours.
“Prince Jacaerys,” you whisper, your voice barely more than a breath. His nod is stiff, and the faintest signs of sorrow reveal themselves—a reddened rim around his eyes, the tip of his nose touched with pink. The melancholy seems to hang upon him as you shift uncomfortably on your feet.
When he speaks your name, a subtle tremor betrays his composure. “I did not expect you here.”
You blink, concern stirring within you. “I was merely…” You swallow, “I often come up here for solace,” you reply, feeling the awkwardness settle between you like a heavy cloak. Jacaerys and you do not often find yourselves alone together. “I did not mean to intrude-”
“It’s alright,” he interrupts, his tone curt but not unkind as takes a step towards the stairway down. “I was just- leaving.” he discreetly wipes at his eyes, and you avert your gaze as the last vestiges of his sadness are hidden from view.
In the ensuing silence, memories of youthful nights emerge unbidden - the cruelty of your brothers, the growing disdain in Jacaerys’ gaze when he’d see your family within the Red Keep, his chilliness despite your earnest attempts at childish friendship. You wonder if he too recalls these days, as the weight of those shared shadows lingers between you. 
Sometimes, it seems to be the solitary thread that binds your past to his.
He’s been crying - those large eyes, glossy with the remnants of sorrow. A pang hits your stomach - Jacaerys, who stands in front of you in his traditional Targaryen clothes, yet was just perched upon the banister like a young boy; Jacaerys, who cannot afford to let his head dip down because one day he must bear a very heavy crown.
You almost say something; there are hundreds of words you could say to Jace, but it is not your place. Your shoulder is not the one he chooses to lean on, to cry on. You are not his betrothed. 
“You don’t have to leave, my Prince-” You say, but he shakes his head suddenly.
“-I’d rather you call me Jacaerys when we are not at court.” His voice softens slightly, though his eyes struggle to stay on yours. “I find it’s too formal.” He adds, fingers toying with the dark band that lies around his finger.
When you were young, Helaena often played with her rings similarly when anxious. The memory makes your chest ache.
"Jacaerys," you start tentatively, “It’s... alright,” you murmur, struggling to find the right words. “To take a moment. To breathe and... reflect.”
Though you need not utter his brother’s name, Jacaerys understands you speak of him; of the war’s relentless shadow.
You can only feign ignorance as he bites back his anguish, jaw tightening and breath hitching in a suppressed sob. A tear is wiped away from his cheek expeditiously; your eyes find the black waters along the horizon. With an effort of courtesy, Jacaerys excuses himself in a whispered tone.
His final nod is but a swift and false gesture—an empty formality, yet a small, tentative bridge over the chasm that has long kept you apart.
You do not let your own tears come until his figure has well disappeared within the depths of the castle below.
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[ taglist: @chloe-petrichors @jottositto @bitchydragonparadisee @lukehughes43 @rhea-ripley ]
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sheismadness · 3 months ago
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jacaerys velaryon favorites
house of the dragon
one shots
Conspriracy of Hearts - @astrxq
Black and Purple - @simpingland
prisons & prophets - @curseofaphrodite
Solace - @myladysapphire
Your Reflection - @jacaerysgf
On Sunny Days I Go Out Walking - @eldrith
Silken Streets - @eldrith
picture of you in an invisible locket - @softspiderling
intrusion - @gracexthoughts
i'd go blind (just to see you) - @eldrith
can i go (where you go?) - @softspiderling
First Impressions - @princessbellecerise
Rotten Soil, Rotten Fruit - @princessbellecerise
Reunions - @ireneispunk
series
a call to arms. - @annwrites
DRAGONSPEAR - @rennalaqotfm
SPOILS OF WAR - @luvrottt
Flowers - @jacaerysgf
A Golden Cage - @eldrith
WHAT HONOR DEMANDS. - @swordgrace
knuckles bruised (like violets) - @drgnmnts
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h4lfaheart · 9 months ago
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The Great Hope for a Dynasty, a House of the Dragon fanfiction
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“Let it be known that Aella of House Targaryen and Jacaerys of Houses Velaryon and Targaryen are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder.”
ao3 // wattpad
{jace velaryon/oc}
{oc edits made by @/ccarmyy on tiktok}
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sunnyie-eve · 5 months ago
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2 | Bastards
Series: Calamity Within | House of the Dragon
Pairing: (Jacaerys Velaryon x Cousin! OFC Targaryen!) (Aegon II Targaryen x Cousin! OFC Targaryen!)
Word Count: 1k
Warnings: slight bullying
| MASTERLIST |
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-
Once again it was time the King wanted Lilibet to come for a visit. After her last visit, she stayed for a good four months before going back home. This time Damon didn't mind as much since he was planning to go out and make deals.
Arriving this time, Ser Cole was going to help her to the Queens chambers but luckily Ser Strong approaches them saying Rhaenyra wanted to see her.
"I have direct orders from the Queen."
"I have direct orders from the Princess, who the King gave her permission." Harwin mentions so Lilibet steps closer to him.
Since the last time she was there Rhaenyra told Harwin everything that Lilibet said she heard before running away and that she knew the truth too. And for the remaining time she was there last time she avoided Criston Cole every second in hopes not to bring up him seeing her.
Lilibet quickly follows Harwin to Rhaenyra's chambers leaving Criston Cole alone, "Does the Princess really want to see me?" She asks him.
"The Princess doesn't know that you were coming to visit." He looks back at her.
"Thank you." She lets him know so he nods his head.
Entering the room before he could announce her arrival, Rhaenyra says her name excited since it's been two years since she was here last. "You're finally back. Come meet your new cousin. She smiles.
"What's his name?" Lilibet asks with a smile.
"Joffrey." Rhaenyra tells her.
"Laena is pregnant and is expecting soon." Lilibet tells the news.
"Really? What are you wanting a brother or another sister?" Rhaenyra asks her as she lets her hold the baby.
"I want a baby brother. Laena don't care what the babe will be. I think father would love a boy though." Lilibeth laughs, "I say such a thing because my father me training. I have a bow down very well but I'm working on the sword."
"Your father, my dear uncle, has you practicing with weapons for what?"
"To be able to protect myself. Which I'm fine with because there will be a time when I'll need to." Lilibet explains to her.
"Why don't you go find the King? I'm sure he'll want to see you. Giving the time he's probably watch the boys practice." Rhaenyra takes Joffrey back so Lilibet leaves the room going to find them.
The King was happy to see Lilibet arrived before talking to her and the hand about the boys practicing. Lilibet automatically could see Ser Cole was being biased towards the white hair boys compared to the dark hair boys.
When Harwin started talking to Cole it started a big tiff so Lilibet leaves her uncles side rushing down the steps as Ageon was overpowering Jace.
"Lilibet?" Aemond was surprised to see her as she took the wooden sword out of his hands going over to Aegon hitting the sword out of his hands as she swung hers taking them all by surprise.
Harwin then grabs Aegon moving him away from Jace and Lilibet as she helps him up, "You okay?" She asks him before Harwin and Cole start to fight because he pushes his buttons.
The kids are told to go off and Aegon grabs Lilibet's arm, "Are you insane? Striking your Prince?"
"You were going too far out there. Jace was down crawling away from you. You weren't going to stop so I stopped you." She explains to him as the two stood alone.
"Still striking your Prince. What when the time is right in the future you'll do the same to stop me from taking the throne."
Lilibet can't help but laugh at him, "What is this suddenly? You wanting the throne? Since I can remember, when we were closest, you hated the idea of it. You hated the thought of responsibilities. Now you want to be king?"
"I'm the first born son,"
She cuts him off, "Why does it have to be the son? Where is it written in the rules? Women can rule the seven kingdoms just as well. I stuck you in the yard so women can do anything." She leaves him alone.
When she rejoins Jace and Luke, Jace questions her about why she was so good at disarming Aegon. She tells him the same thing she told his mother about her father wanting her to know how to protect herself.
Lilibet has been staying in her chambers after hearing the Queen and King talking the other day after leaving a council meeting.
Alicent went on about how she would never marry her daughter off to one of Rhaenyra's plain featured sons. Then at least Lilibet had the Targaryen features and if any of her child were to marry, she'd gladly take her for either of her sons.
As she was reading, Jace enters her room alone, "Am I needed?" She puts her book down.
"I'm a bastard. Ser Harwin Strong is my real father." He tells her.
"Jace, I know." She tells him and he just stares at her, "I promised your mother I would never say a thing."
"You knew I was a bastard this whole time?"
Lilibet nods her head, "Did you know I'm also a bastard? Unlike you, I fortunately got my Targaryen genes from my father." She lets him know, "My mother and Father were had an affair. My father didn't even know I existed until my mother died and the King told him about me."
"You don't see me differently for being a bastard?"
"Of course not, Jacaerys. So what your father is Harwin Strong? He's well known and you get his strong features. I had to I'm sorry but I prefer you this way and no other way." She gives him a hug and he hugs her back.
Rhaenyra brings news to her children and Lilibet about how they were leaving for Dragonstone and she could join them or stay with the King. Lilibet of course decides to accompany them not wanting to stay in Kings Landing alone.
By the time they arrived they got a letter telling them of Laena's passing. Laenor was heartbroken by the news and Lilibet was as well. After all she saw her as a mother and she felt worst not being there with her sisters when their mother passed. She couldn't wait till she rejoins them to comfort them since she knew her father wouldn't be much help.
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shadowandlightt · 5 months ago
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queers-gambit · 4 months ago
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I LOVE the Black Dread. It's soooo good. She'd be stubbornly undecided. I think she'd find Jacaerys irritating and even more annoying than Aemond. It might add insult to injury that even though he doesn't look like a Targaryen he's (for the most part) been given everything she should have been given despite sharing the same reasons she was not (if that makes sense). Also, how will Vermax ever entice Balerion into friendship or romance? Vermax, though cute, is a measly offer of companionship. However, she may be team Rhaenyra. Aemond on the other hand is a handsome prospect. He's a dragon rider who might acknowledge her as a Targaryen because she is a legitimate child like the Velaryons and he'd be enamoured that she claimed Balerion of all dragons. he'd be intrigued, probably into her and slightly jealous. Vhagar and Balerion have history as well. That could sway Balerion and in turn sway her. Daemon would probably admire her as well...but she seems like she'd be DONE with all of their shit. Before she picks a side she seems like she'd need payback for not being acknowledged or included before.
love this take. love this message. love the thought and consideration, the analysis. love that you picked up on a lot of the foreshadowing soon to come!
i'm working on part two which is gonna finish setting up a lot of the plot and details, and THEN we'll get into the more specified bonding moments between her and Aemond / Jace.
really excited to see what you guys think! keep the messages coming! all my love 🖤
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venusbyline · 29 days ago
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hii weird and super off topic but did you follow or know annwrites?
She (I think, sorry) was trying to find an anon that was harassing her a LOT about the Jace stuff and yesterday dropped off the face of the earth 😭 Trying to search up the account to see what happened with the 'reveal' but it was all gone I don't know if I'm going crazy or what
sorry you're getting so much shit about your Jace stuff. Your work is AMAZING and I hope you never lose that drive ✨️
omg yes, i did. i follow her and i always read her fics. btw i'm almost sure that it was precisely with her that i talked to about i'm also receiving harassment/hate about my Jace fics in October. but now her account no longer appears to me, it's as if it had been deactivated or something like that
i'm gonna post about her situation on my blog, trying to find her or someone who knows what happened. if you find out sooner, pls let me know :(
and tysm for the compliment and your support, i'm really happy and grateful about that <3 <3 <3
unfortunately, being a ficwriter is getting more complicated every day with so much anon harassing, but we shouldn't give up <3
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vqltairstears · 6 months ago
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i have an old oc x jace fanfic that i started writing a few months back but then dropped, kinda thinking of finishing and posting it because that man has been serving face and sass all season!!
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catsteeth · 6 days ago
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Blood & Steel
Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem Stark Reader 
+:✿ Request ✿:+
Request: “After the incident with Blood and Cheese when the Greens send someone to retaliate, instead of finding Rhaenyra they find Reader. Jacaerys goes feral against the attacker. Make him pretty intense since he's become extremely protective of Reader.”  CW: MDNI. Mention of arranged marriage, violence, graphic depictions of violence towards children, canon typical violence, nsfw themes, angst, arguments
Word Count: 7k
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Since you arrived at Dragonstone, you grew more and more fond of your arranged marriage. Particularly you grew fond of the man you were to marry. Jacaerys was a kind and patient man. Something you did not think you would be fortunate enough to marry. 
You and he often spent your free moments looking for solitude from the talks of war and politics. Soon, you and he would spend time on a small patch of land separated from Dragonstone, hardly an island. It was only about twenty miles wide if that. But it became your haven. You could spend hours away from the weight of the war. 
You missed your home, but here on the island sand, you found comfort in the presence of Jace and Vermax. And Jacaerys found the same in you. 
That day you had been away from the castle for hours, and you knew sooner rather than later, someone would come looking for you both. You sighed as you tore your eyes from the calming and consistent waves crawling up and down the sands of the beach. You turned to look at your betrothed who lay on the sand with his eyes closed. Desperately trying to push out the fact your time was running slim. 
You sat beside him, running your hand through his hair trying to gain his attention. You lay down, getting closer to him, “My prince.” You whispered teasingly. 
“Mm?” He hummed furrowing his brows but refusing to open his eyes.
You continued to play with his brown curly hair as you smiled softly, “We’ve been out of Castle far too long.” You said begrudgingly. You knew it was time to return though you were not looking forward to the return of somber and formal interaction between you and high lords. 
Jacaerys groaned, “Ah,” he rubbed his eyes before finally and reluctantly opening them, “I can’t find sleep there.” 
You breathed a laugh, “You seem to find it well enough out here.” your fingers finally left his hair as you were about to stand. 
As soon as Jacaerys felt your touch abandon him, he grabbed a hold of your hand and pulled it close to his chest. “Only because you are beside me,” he said with an earnest gaze. 
You understood him. He had an unbearable weight on top of himself, one similar to the one on top of you. You knew he could only find pure comfort in the presence of something… familiar and uncomplicated, love. You thought on it for a moment, wishing to help him. “Perhaps you could sleep beside me tonight.” You said without any real thought of how it might have sounded until Jacaerys looked at you with wide, but excited eyes. “Meaning nothing so bold-” You choked on your own air as you corrected yourself.
“Course you did not,” Jacaerys said quickly with a shake of his head as he sat up. 
You sat quietly for a moment, “What of it then?” you asked.
Jacaerys looked towards you trying to hide a smile, “I cannot promise I won’t feel temptation.” 
You smirked, “Temptation?” You scooted closer to him, “Temptation for what?” You teased. It was not a secret to either of you that you both wished to hold closer intimacy with one another. Though Jacaerys was not a pious man he did take the opinions of high lords and ladies seriously. They already thought lowly of the bastard prince, he would not have them think lowly of their future queen. He wished to protect your character and your reputation. Though you held the opinions of high lords and ladies to almost no value at all, you reluctantly respected his wish. 
“You tease me?” He asked faining offense. 
“Do I?” You pretended to be shocked by the accusation, but soon your facade was wiped away by an earnest smile, “Sleep in a chair beside the bed if you must. I merely wish for you to find sleep.” You said plainly without any hint of lust or jest. Simply wishing to help him in any way you could. 
He held onto your hand slightly tighter, “What if someone were to find out I was sneaking into your chambers?” He asked with a smirk, teasing you back. 
You scrunched up your nose and scoffed as you looked out into the ocean, “Fuck what those high lords and their hypocrisies think.” 
Jacaerys stifled a laugh, “Is that any way for a queen to speak?” He asked as he leaned in closer to you.
You shook your head and smirked, “Not queen yet. Still a Lady, and hardly that.” 
“You are very much a Lady.” He mumbled as his danced over your facial features and down over your body. 
You pushed his shoulder and stifled a laugh, “You’re a dog.” You said scrunching up your nose at him. Feigning disgust, when really you felt butterflies in your stomach. 
He playfully pulled you closer, “And you a wolf.” he said as his eyes sparkled in yours. “May I kiss you?” He asked softly. 
You smiled, “You needn’t ask.” You said as if he asked you a ridiculous question. 
He returned your smile, “I like to hear you say ‘yes’.” He said as he stared longingly at your lips. 
He didn’t move an inch, waiting for your approval. You rolled your eyes and with a smirk, you conceded, “Yes.” And his that, Jacaerys pulled your lips into his with a hand grasping at the back of your head gently. You could not wait until your wedding, so eager for this man to become yours in the sight of the Gods. All you could think of each time your lips met was how rare this kind of love must be. 
Though you could not think of it long, your haven was interrupted by the loud and shrill sounds of a horn. “What was that?” You questioned as you looked over to Dragonstone.
Jacaerys looked over to Dragonstone as well. He knew the horn was to call members of the council together in an urgent meeting. Though it was only used when in times of critical importance. He took your hands and helped you stand, “We’d better get back.” He said, trying to keep you calm, but also trying to return as soon as possible.
“Has something terrible happened?” You asked as Jacaerys ushered you over to Vermax as quickly as he could. 
As Jacaerys helped you climb on top of the green beasted he shook his head, “I cannot be certain.” He spoke honestly, and strapped you into the saddle before he climbed on, “If it has, I promise you will not be affected.” He said in an attempt to comfort any anxieties you might have been feeling. 
You couldn’t understand how that was meant to help, “If you are affected, I am affected.” 
Jacaerys however, did not respond, merely he pulled on the reins of Vermax as he took off into the sky, set on returning to Dragonstone. 
꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈
Upon your return, you were rushed into the council chamber. You were told of a vile act that had taken place within the Keep, an attack on the Greens. Normally this would have been a beneficial evil. But this time, the act was so gruesome it was hardly an attack on the Greens' claim, it was an attack on the Blacks’. 
Two men snuck into the chamber of ‘Queen’ Helena’s children. Maester Gerardys relaid the rest of the story to the Queen and the rest of the council, “It is yet unclear how the Keep itself was breached. The boy’s head was severed from his body. Thousands witnessed the procession.” 
You felt sickened by the description of the attack on the babe. You placed a hand on your chest, over your heart. Jacaerys took your hand and held it under the table. Wishing to comfort you while hiding your emotions from the High Lords. 
Rhaenyra shocked spoke with disbelief, “And they are accusing me of having a hand in this?”
Maester Gerardys nodded, “It appears so. There have been messages sent to that effect. Throughout the realm.”
Rhaenyra scoffed, “We must send our own messages, denying this vile allegation.”
“I will do so at once, but I am not sure they will be received in good faith.” The Maester said cautiously. 
Rhaenyra paid no mind to the comment, “And we must double our guard, here and in Driftmark. There will be swift retribution in one form or another–”
“I have seen to it, Your Grace.” One of the lords spoke. The idea made you feel weary. She was right, it did not matter whether she did have a hand in the murder or not. The Greens would blame her for it and would see to it that they were avenged. 
Jacaerys stood from his seat, “Let me fly out on Vermax.” Rhaenyra looked at him with concern. Jacaerys however spoke with courage and ambition, “Rhaenys is needed in the Gullet and I can watch for movements from Kings Landing.”
“No,” Rheynera said quickly with a shake of her head as she turned her attention back to the matter at hand. 
She saw Jace as a fragile and delicate thing, something she could not jeopardize more than she already had. You understood how she felt, she’d already lost one son on dragon's back she didn’t wish to lose another. And if you were honest, you were somewhat grateful for it. 
Though you could see the frustration, and embarrassment grow on the expression of Jacaerys’s face. As he sat back down you placed a hand on the back of his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. Just enough for him to ground himself back into reality, and know you were with him. 
“It must be said that the damage to our position is immeasurable, at a time when we most need loyalty to our cause.” Some high lord spoke again through the tension building in the room. 
“But it’s a lie.” Rhaeynera scoffed, finding the accusation ridiculous, “Having lost my own son, that I would inflict such a thing on Helaena, of all people. An innocent!” She proclaimed.  
Alfred Broome, a high lord who had grown too comfortable with his position began, “The death of Prince Lucerys was a shock and an insult. A mother so aggrieved might, naturally, seek relief in retribution-” 
As you felt anger rising in your chest, the Queen shot up from her seat and charged towards the arrogant man. “Are you suggesting, Ser Alfred, that my grief drove me to order the decapitation of a child?” She nearly spat her words at him in disgust.
“I merely thought, perhaps, an action taken in haste.” He stammered, 
“Mind yourself.” You said out of near instinct. Your anger had gotten the better of you but it seemed well warranted. 
Her grace stood staring down the overly confident man. However, exhibiting far more strength than you would have had, she sat herself down. 
Once she was sat she looked over towards her husband and uncle, Prince Daemon. You felt weary of the man ever since you had heard the stories of his brutal and seemingly erratic behavior. Daemon now in this council meeting, discussing the beheading of an innocent babe was smirking. 
It made your stomach turn as it did Rhaenyra’s. Her face dropped, and she then dismissed the council meeting. 
Jacaerys angered by his mother’s decision to coddle him, stormed off down one of the halls. Rather than follow after him you allowed him to go his own way, you decided to wait in your chambers for his blood to cool. However, it was not long til you yourself were summoned by the Queen. 
꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈
As you walked down the hall towards the council room, you noticed an enraged Daemon storming out of that very room. 
You stuck to the stone wall and kept your eyes on the ground. You never felt particularly welcomed in his presence. As he stormed past you he did not speak a word nor did he look at you at all. 
It was times like this when you wished you were back home in the North. 
As you entered the council chamber, you noticed a broken glass of wine on the floor, and the Queen wiping tears from her eyes. 
You entered the chamber cautiously, “You wished to see me, your grace?” you asked softly, not wishing to upset her further. 
She seemed somewhat startled by your sudden presence. She stood, wiping another tear away. “Our position has been weakened as you know.” She said as she walked towards you, “You are a great asset to us, the greatest we have now.” Her words hung heavy over your head, but you knew it was true. “Send a raven to your brother, Cregan Stark. Please try to persuade him to send more men. We need the North more than ever.” You nodded, and just as you turned your back to her, about to leave she spoke once more “You must know I did not order this.”  
You turned back around to face her, “Never.” You shook your head and spoke with conviction. You stepped closer to her, “I shall send the raven at once. My brother will know this is merely a tragedy and a vile rumor.” 
She took hold of your wrist and hand, gripping onto you tightly, “I depend on you.” As she spoke you could hear the desperation in her voice as it wavered. You could tell her words were true. 
Rhaenyra was gladdened to have you there. You would be Queen one day, you had to witness the hardships of that role. And she was grateful to see you could weather them, and stay loyal to her house.
You bowed your head to her with the utmost respect you could offer, “I’ll not fail you, your Grace.” 
꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱
The day was long. 
Daemon had fled Dragonstone on Caraxes. You had no knowledge of where he was to be going when he would return, or what this meant for your soon-to-be husband’s future. The Queen had fled Dragonstone as well. For what purpose you did not know. But you were confident she would return. It was not in her nature, nor her character to abandon her children. 
The castle felt cold and empty. All you could hear was the sounds of whiny children, Joffrey asking for his mother, while Ageon and Viserys cried as their nurses cradled them. 
You could not find comfort in a place like this. It felt eerie and unsettled. Like the ocean before a storm. As you struggled to find sleep you longed for the company only Jace could provide. 
Hoping his blood had cooled enough, you dragged yourself out of bed and sought him out. 
You found him in the first place you looked, the library. He was always in the library. “Jace?” You beckoned out softly as you entered, wrapping yourself tighter in the robe you were wearing. 
Jace was sitting at a desk, holding his head in his hand as his other flipped through the pages of a book, “A child was beheaded. The lords' faith in my mother waivers. And she flees.” He said without looking at you. It was clear he was still frustrated, no angry. 
Though you did not know where the Queen had gone, you knew it had to be a reason of importance. But you could understand Jacaerys’s anger.
You began to step closer to Jace, not intimidated by his anger. “Your position is a difficult one, I would wager.” You leaned against the desk he sat at, “As I imagine her position is also a difficult one. I cannot pass judgment on her actions.” You said softly.
Jace looked up from the book on the desk, “Has this shaken your belief in my mother's claim?”
“No.” You asserted quickly, “Your mother did not want for this. It was clear she rebuked the act with all her heart. Her claim was given to her by birth, no force but death will change that.”
Jace looked back to the book he was reading, “Not all of the realm sees it the way you do.” You could feel the frustration building in him.
“I’ve written to my brother. He shall send us more men. Spread the truth about the murder about the realm.” You said hoping it would ease his mind, though you could see it did nothing. You sighed “You should sleep.” 
Jacaerys scoffed, “How can I? Damon has fled to plot his own war, my mother vanishes from her responsibilities, and now our claim has been weakened by the death of an innocent child.” He rubbed his eyes, “I am alone with these responsibilities with lords who pester me for answers.”
“You are not alone.” You said as you ran your hand through his hair, “The burden is a heavy one, let me hold it with you.” You said as if you were pleading, “I can send ravens and bark at the lords who dare pester you.” Jacaerys did not respond to you, ignoring your words and continuing to read. You removed your hand from him, growing frustrated with him, “And how will reading thousand-year-old histories hunched over a desk in the middle of the night help that?”
“Someone has to do something.” He muttered.
You sighed, “If you insist on it, perhaps you could read in my chambers. Maybe the company would help you feel less lonely. Or I could sleep here-” 
Jacaerys interrupted you, “I don’t feel lonely. I am alone with my mother's war to fight. A letter to the North will do well. But it might do nothing at all. So by all means, sleep, and make yourself easy.” He said, his words dripping with anger and frustration. 
You stood, shocked by his reaction. “My apologies my prince, I merely wished to ease your anxieties.” You said in a mocking tone. 
As you stormed out, Jacaerys knew he had made a terrible mistake. He allowed his anger to take hold of his emotions and lashed out at the one person who wished to make things easier on him. 
You stormed down the hall, wiping a tear from your cheek. Your face was red from a strange mixture of heartache and anger. You thought of how Rheanyra looked after Daemon stormed away. You didn’t know what happened in that room but you could assume. 
Maybe it was true what all those women in the North said. All men are the same, they are all born of the same nature. You felt foolish to have had such hope for Jacaerys. 
But you knew, hot blood has a way of blinding you. You decided it would be best to sleep and wait for you and Jacaerys to calm down.
Once in your chambers, you splashed your face with warm water, washing away your teasers. You then turned to Liana, your Handmaiden. She handed you a cloth to pat your face dry. Once you did, she took the fabric from your hand. You smiled coldly at the girl, “Thank you, Liana.” 
The girl bowed her head to you before leaving your chamber. 
As you lay down in your bed, you tried your best to sleep. You tossed and turned, hitting and folding your pillows in a desperate attempt to get comfortable enough to find rest. The cries of the babes still echoed throughout the castle’s stone walls. 
Frustrated,  you once again tore the blankets off of you. Holding a candle to light your way, you followed the sounds of cries. 
As you entered the babe’s chamber you saw a sleeping boy in one cradle, and a Handmaiden bouncing the other child in a desperate attempt to comfort him. 
“My lady!” The handmaiden called out, surprised by your sudden appearance. “I am sorry, I cannot seem to put him to rest.” She said worrying she’d upset you and your night. 
“Seems like a common problem here.” You said with a weak smile. You set down your candle and walked towards the handmaiden. “I find singing soothes them best.” You suggested softly as you tucked your loose hair behind your ears. 
The handmaiden chuckled, “I’m not much of a singer I fear.” She said as she continued to rock and bounce the child to no avail. 
You stood for a moment looking at the boy. Though he had silver hair, he reminded you of your siblings in the North. “May I?” You asked as you held out your hands towards the babe. 
First slightly unsure, the handmaiden placed the boy in your arms. 
You held him gently as you swayed him back and forth. You began to hum a melody that your mother would sing to you. The hum soon turned into vocalization. The babe calmed in your arms finally. 
He gripped onto a strand of your hair that fell loose over your shoulder. He didn’t pull it, just absentmindedly toying with it. 
This boy must have been Viserys. It could be hard to tell at times, but Viserys had curls, whereas Ageon did not. And Aegon slept much better than Viserys did. As evident from the silver-haired boy sleeping soundly in the cradle and the other in your arms. It surprised you how well Aegon could sleep through such noise. 
You looked back down at Viserys. As he looked up into your eyes you noticed he and Jacaerys shared the same eyes. It made you think of being a mother to the future King, or Queen. And maybe many other princes and princesses. You wondered what those babies might look like. A bit of you, and a bit of him. 
Soon the boy's eyes became heavy and he drifted into a light sleep. 
“Can I get you anything my Lady?” the Handmaiden whispered, not wishing to disturb him. 
“Perhaps a tea for sleep? I can’t seem to find it but I shall see to it that the boy sleeps.” You whispered as you continued to sway the boy back and forth. 
The handmaiden nodded and swiftly but quietly left the chambers. 
As you turned your attention back to Viserys you realized the boy was limp and heavy in your arms. He breathed calmly and deeply, snoring even. ‘Finally’ You thought to yourself. 
You played the babe into the cradle beside his brother. As you looked down upon them you thought back again on your daydream of you and Jace’s children. 
It made you feel excited and hopeful to think of that future. But with this recent turn in the war, and your fight with Jacaerys, you felt doubt. But you were willing to fight for that feeling of hope. 
You ran your hand over the boy's silver curly hair once before you heard the chamber door creek open. You turned towards it, expecting to see a Handmaiden holding a hot cup of tea. Instead, you saw a knight, one you recognized. 
You wrapped your robe around you tighter, “Ser Erryk?” You asked with concern. Though he looked at you with pity, and what was stranger was his eyes didn’t look like his eyes at all, “You’re not Erryk, are you?” You mutter quietly as you hold onto yourself tightly as your anxieties rise. 
Your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach once you saw a cloaked man behind the Knight posing as Ser Erryk. 
Viserys began to stir from his sleep, whining slightly. You took a step back, keeping your eyes on the men in the doorway. You placed a hand on the wooden railing of the cradle holding the two young princes. 
“It’s the real Targaryen boys.” The cloaked man rasped to the Knight. 
With that, the two began to inch their way into the chamber. You moved to block their view of the infants sleeping in their cradles. 
“There's gold, silver, anything you desire I will give. Just leave the babes.” You whispered, not wishing to wake the infants to such a horrific scene. Though your heart began to pound so quickly you thought that alone might wake Viserys. 
The man in the cloak smirked at your attempt to derail their plan as he got closer and closer to you. His filthy hand tore off your mother’s necklace that hung around your neck. He examined it in his hands before placing it in his pocket. “Blood must be spilled.” 
The knight, however, did not find humor or joy in the act he was anticipating. “You’ll take us to the Queen.” He whispered. It was a command, but it felt like a plea. As if this armed intruder had no desire to bring harm to you. But you knew he had the ability and the will to. 
You shook your head, “I’ll do no such thing.” Your eyes were wide and filled with terror.
“You will.” The knight said, again, it sounded like he was desperately pleading with you. 
“The Queen fled Dragonstone this evening.” You said almost mockingly, “Even if she were here, I’d not take you to her.” 
The cloaked man began to walk towards you with a rotten and crooked smile, “You then.” He said with a giddy high chuckle as he raised a dagger towards you. 
You moved away from the children, not wishing to bring that terrible creature near them. The man followed after you, “Please-“ You pleaded quietly as he grabbed hold of you. His stench was thick, nearly choking you as he pressed a knife to your throat. He held one of your hands while your other attempted to pull his knife away from you. “I rebuke the act with all my heart-” You quietly pleaded as you felt the knife begin to drag against your skin, cutting into your throat ever so slightly. 
You squirmed and the cloaked man began to giggly snicker in your ear. But the knight stepped forward raising a hand to the man halting his action. The man’s snicker died out, as though he was upset he was being interrupted. 
“Perhaps-” The knight began, “If you returned to Kings Landing.” The knight was speaking to you, but his eyes stayed on the man, “If you married Prince Aemond, give the North’s power to the Greens.” His eyes then fell onto you, “Then we could spare you.” 
“That wasn’t what he asked for.” The cloaked man barked back to the Knight. The knight however did not respond to the man, only looking at you with pleading eyes. 
With eyes widened and your heart racing. You felt the cold blade beginning to split your hot skin as sweat trickled down your brow. Terrified, and vulnerable. Still, you knew you would never betray the only man you ever loved or the true Queen. “I’d rather you put my head on a spike.” You said, your voice shaking but your eyes did not show fear, but contempt. 
The man holding the knife to your throat grew giddy once more, and the Knight sighed as he grabbed hold of the hilt of his sword. “Then, believe me, I have no choice, " he said with a regretful sigh. 
The knight drew his sword, making you gasp and your eyes grew wider, so wide you thought they might fall out of your head. The knight approached the sleeping babes in their cradle and you squirmed violently in the grasp of the cloaked man. As you did the blade only cut its way deeper into your skin but you did not care. 
“No!” You pleaded desperately. 
“Only one needs to die.” The cloaked man said you could practically hear the grin on his face. “Which will it be?” He asked with a giddy chuckle. 
Tears began to fall from your wide eyes down your red cheeks, “Spare-spare them- take me- me- me-” You desperately and quietly pleaded. The man's giddy chuckle only grew more erratic. 
But the knight did not move, “I cannot.” The knight said with shame as he looked down at the infants in their cradle. 
The man who held you tightly against his blade threw you down onto the ground, “You take care of the woman.” He said with frustration as he made his way towards the babes. 
You stood quickly and grabbed a hold of a golden pitcher within the room. You hit the man over the head with it. Making water splash over him, and the babes waking them instantly. The babes screamed and cried as the golden edge of the pitcher cut the scalp of the man open, and he fell to the ground in pain before he picked himself up and ran out of the chamber disappearing in the shadows of the halls. 
The knight’s large hand rose and fell on your face, knocking you to the ground. It was at that same moment you heard the shattering of glass hit the floor. It was the handmaiden dropping your cup of hot tea onto the ground. “M’Lady!” The woman shouted.
You looked up from the hard ground to the woman, “Find Ser Lorrent!” You called out. You wanted for a moment to call for Jacaerys, but you would never forgive yourself for bringing danger to him. 
As the woman ran down the hall, the Knight begrudgingly grabbed a chunk of your hair as he pulled you off the ground. As he looked into your tear-stained face he noticed the damage he’d already done. 
A bruise to your cheekbone that rose to your eye, and a cut to your lip. You could see the shame in his eyes as he brought his sword to your neck. 
“Brother!” A voice yelled out. You looked over to the door to see the true Ser Erryk. He drew his sword.
Without exchanging many words, they unsheathe their swords. You took the opportunity to grab hold of the wailing children and run to the door. All you could hear was the sounds of steel clashing and blood splattering the floor. Their identical fighting styles and knowledge of each other’s tactics result in a deadly stalemate at first.
The clash of swords echoes through the halls, as Ser Lorent finally arrives. He did not know who was who, and at such a distance you did not either. 
Ser Lorent kept you behind him, as he watched the battle continue. You watched on in horror holding onto the crying children.
You jumped as you felt hands wrap around you. But as you looked you noticed it was Jacaerys, his expression was one of terror and rage. 
“Jacaerys!” You said with relief, as he pulled you and his siblings further away from the fight.  
He held your face, observing your injuries, “Where are you hurt?” He asked frantically, “Where did he touch you?” He repeated the question several times but you were far too frightened to speak. 
You heard the sound of metal hitting the floor, as you turned you saw one of the knights fall dead onto the floor, and his sword along with him. 
The surviving Knight, you could only assume was Erryk, stepped forward. His eyes were filled with grief and guilt. 
You looked towards him with sympathy, you didn’t know what to say, but you would not have a chance to think of anything before the knight stumbled into the hall. “My Lady,” He said as he turned his sword towards himself, “Forgive me.” He said as he fell onto his sword.
“No!” You screamed out, but it was too late. Erryk lay dead beside his brother.
꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱
You spent the rest of the night locked away in your chamber with Viserys, Aegon, and Joffrey. The guard around your chamber was nearly tripled at the command of Jacaerys. 
“We have no idea how they penetrated our walls.” Ser Alfred began. 
Jacaerys marched across the council room, exuding every once of rage he felt, “And where were the members of this council when the traitors threatened their Queen, their Princes, and their future Queen?” He questioned, ignoring Ser Alfred's words. “My betrothed is our stronghold.” He barked at the men in that room. He then marched towards Ser Lorent, stopping inches from his face, “And where were you while the Prince and my Lady were threatened?” His tone was oozing with contemptous rage. 
Ser Lorent looked down like a child who was caught misbehaving, “I was abed-”
“A bed!” Jace shouted, interrupting the Knight. “She could have been killed!” He nearly screamed as he continued to march around the room. 
“It is not the time for blind accusations.” Lord Corlys began, attempting to settle his grandchild’s rage but failing.  
“If I may-” Lady Mysaria began, “The guard has detained someone.” This captured Jacaerys’s attention, “The men whom they have captured are not known to us. However, they were caught attempting to flee Dragonstone in a small boat. With the Ladys necklace.” She said holding up the necklace Jacaerys knew was your mother's. 
Jacaerys felt that cold sting of rage crashes through his chest, he grabbed a hold of his sword as he walked towards the door to the chamber, “I’ll kill him myself.” Jace, his eyes watery with angry tears. 
Lord Corlys, placed a hand on Jace’s chest, stopping him, “I believe it may be best that we approach this with a level head.” He said in a hushed tone. 
“A level head?” Jace scoffed, “He had a knife to her throat!” He barked.
“And he will pay for such an insult.” Ser Alfred said, in an attempt to aid Corlys in calming Jace.
“Insult?” Jace repeated in a mocking tone offended that he would compare what was done to you to an insult. 
“Jacaerys.” Corlys said, redirecting Jace’s attention back to him, “We must first extract all the knowledge they have of the attack. Who ordered it-”
“We know who ordered it!” Jace shouted,
Ser Alfred stepped forward once more, “They paraded the boy throughout the streets after his death. Shouting of the depravity of Rheanyra the Cruel.” Jace turned to face Ser Alfred, he looked at him with contempt. Weary of what he was to say next. “We cannot parade the Lady and her injuries to the public but we can send letters detailing each act- the horror they inflicted-” 
Lord Corlys buried his eyes in his hand.
“No.” Jace asserted, “I will not allow my wife’s honor to be compromised.” He began emotion building in her voice. 
No one said a thing, but they all noticed how he spoke of you as his wife though your wedding had not even been planned yet. 
Despite Jacaery’s anger, Ser Alfred continued, “Will the Lords of Westeros support Aegon once they have heard of their depravity, or will they rather not denounce the Greens?”
“I will not let her be seen as weak,” Jace said, his voice dripping with fury. 
“Not weak. Courageous.” He attempted to rationalize, “She protected the prince and the queen, nearly costing her own life to do so. Her misfortune will do more for our cause than a hundred thousand knights.” 
“I said no-” Jace asserted once more before he was interrupted by a handmaiden.
“I apologize, my prince.” The handmaiden said cautiously, “The Lady has requested such action be taken.” She said weary of how the Prince might receive this information.
“What?” He asked breathlessly.
The handmaiden fidgeted with her fingers, nervously, “She has said, she understands, as a representative of the throne she must make sacrifices-” 
Jace shook his head, and rubbed his brow, “She needn’t sacrifice anything.”
“My Prince, the lady has insisted. She has expressed she will not turn her cheek.” The handmaiden said before turning back to leave. 
꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・
In the Dungeon, Lord Corlys entered the cell holding the badly wounded man. 
“I would suggest you speak of whom sent you.” Sitting in front of the man, Lord Corlys intimidated him well enough on his own, he did not need much to convince the man to speak. 
“I was sent by Ser Criston Cole under the order of the King Aegon Targaryen.” The cloaked man said, still holding onto his bleeding scalp. 
“What was the anticipated outcome of this mission?” Lord Corlys questioned.
“Kill the Rheanyra, kill the true born sons.” The man spoke the truth, in a desperate attempt to avoid any more harm. “Arryk muddied it all up. Didn’t know where the right room was. Then didn’t want to kill the boys.” He spoke with haste and fear, “I don’t know any more than that I promise.” With that, Lord Corlys nodded and stood. The man looked up at him with confusion. “Are you going to hurt me?”
“No.” He said calmly, “But I cannot vouch for the Prince.” Corlys said before leaving the cell.
The man’s breathing grew rapid as he saw the prince enter the dungeon.
Jacaerys entered the dungeon, with clenched fists, holding a large Morningstar mace. Jace looked more disheveled than when Lord Corlys saw him in the council chamber. His shirts were unbuttoned and his hair was a mess. His eyes were darker than they normally were. His feet marched along the stone floor as he came into the cell holding the man. 
The man did not plea, he only gritted his teeth knowing what was to come. Jacaerys clenched his jaw as he looked down at the man. He thought of the injuries he saw on his betrothed. The cut on her upper lip, the bruise on her cheek, the cut on her neck, and the bruising on her wrist where the man held her against him. The rage grew inside of him. His nostrils flared as he breathed in and out. 
The man began to cry as he stared up at Jacaerys. It only made the rage within Jace grow. How dare this man cry after what he had done. 
Jace could no longer hold in his fury, he swung his mace over his head and down onto the man’s already cracked skull. 
He brought the mace down onto the man, again, and again, and again until the man’s groaning, whimpering, and twitching ceased. 
Jace breathed heavily, exhausted by emotion and physical exertion. His face was covered in blood splatter and sweat. 
He stood tall over the man, dropping the mace down onto the man's skull before turning and leaving the cell. 
Lord Corlys watched as Jace said not a word and left the dungeon. 
꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ 
Afterward, word traveled quickly of what the Prince had done to the man in the Dungeon. 
It took no time at all for you to have heard of it from several handmaidens. Though it made you feel a certain comfort you still wished Jacaerys would see you, would apologize to you. You valued that much more than violence. 
But it would not be long for that either. As you sat by the fire, you watched over the children sleeping in the well-guarded chamber with you. You jumped slightly once you heard the chamber door open softly. Despite you knowing how well you were guarded now you still were on edge. Though your anxieties dissolved once you saw it was your betrothed. Deshovled, with what looked like blood splattered onto his shirts. 
Jace had washed his face but had not the patience to change before he could see you. 
“You saved my brothers.” Jacaerys spoke gently despite his gruesome appearance, “You showed the realm your heroic bravery.” He said as he approached you. He tried to move your hair to see the cut on your neck, “Show me please.” he said softly but you moved your head so he could not look. 
You didn’t look at him, still holding resentment. “Tis nothing.” You spoke dismissively. 
Jacaerys got onto his knees, placing his hands on your lap, “I must beg for your mercy.” He bowed his head in shame, “My behavior was abhorrent.” he said shaking his head. You still said nothing. Jace looked up at you, “Speak, please. Plainly, even if they are words meant to hurt me I just wish for you to speak.” He pleaded.
So, you did. “You made me feel useless, unwanted.” You said looking at him with hurt eyes, “I only wished to comfort you. And you pushed me away.” You sighed, “I am not a hero, and I am not brave, Jacaerys. I am hurt and far from home.” 
He took in your words for a moment, nodding, “You alone have given us the North, you have saved the Prince and the Queen.” He spoke calmly, “And you have made me a true man and bewitched me, mind and body. I want no one else, and our house could not survive without you.” He took hold of your hands and looked at you with eyes that spoke of the love and devotion he felt toward you, “I was an arrogant fool to make you feel otherwise. Blinded by my own anger towards matters that were not caused by your hand.” You saw his eyes begin to tear up, “I could have lost you. It was so narrowly avoided. I imagined it when I saw those men who attacked you. Losing you… You are my way of life, without you, I could not go on.” He said before sniffing and swallowing whatever emotion was consuming him, before he looked back to you “If I have proven unworthy, I will see to it you have safe passage to the North. No action will be taken against your house.-” He began but you interrupted his ridiculous words. 
You scoffed, “I am not going to leave you over an argument, Jacaerys.” You placed a hand on his cheek, “I said I loved you and I meant it.” 
“I will live to earn your forgiveness.” He said gripping onto your hand tightly. 
“You have it you fool.” You said stifling a laugh. You found it hard to hold resentment toward him any longer. 
He smiled softly at you, and then he ran a hand gently over your hair, “May I?” He asked and you nodded. 
He moved your hair to see the cut on your neck. He grimaced at the sight, not out of disgust but out of anger for what they had done. 
“I said it was nothing.” You said trying to comfort him.
“It is something.” He insisted. 
You pushed your hair forward covering the mark, “The maester said it will scar, but can easily hidden.” 
“You’ll not hide anything.” Jacaerys said as he placed a hand on your cheek, “You did not have to send those letters.” He said shaking his head. He felt shame for allowing such a thing to happen. 
You shook your head, “I couldn’t lay back and make myself easy.” 
“You did much more than that,” Jace said sternly, he would not allow anyone to make you think otherwise. 
You looked at his disheveled appearance, “Is it true what they said?” You questioned softly, “You-You killed the man who did it?” He looked at you with conviction, “I will not allow someone to threaten harm to my wife and live.” 
“Your wife?” You asked with a smile,
“You are quite nearly that.” he smiled back.
You shook your head one last time, “Not near enough.”
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starogeorgina · 10 months ago
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𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞
Paring: Jacaerys Velaryon x Targaryen reader , Aegon II Targaryen × Targaryen reader
Warnings: Swearing, smut
1.03
“If you come to Dragonstone with me, I promise I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.”
Your lower lip wobbles. You wanted to leave with him, but realistically, it wasn’t plausible. “And what happens once we arrive at Dragonstone? Your mother and Prince Daemon just accept me with open arms?”
Jacaerys looks down at his feet. He knew they wouldn’t trust you, nor would they likely wish for you to be in their home. “No, they wouldn’t at first,” he gulps down. “But we could make them see you played no part in the plan of usurping my mother's throne.”
“I didn’t even know my father had died until servants were sent to help me get dressed for Aegon’s coronation. How can I prove that?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know.”
“Whatever road I take, I’ll end up in the same situation.” Feeling uncomfortable, you unconsciously pick at the skin surrounding your finger nail until it bleeds. “If I return home without Stark’s backing Aegon, I will need to face the wrath of being a failure and disappointment to my family. If I go with you to Dragonstone, and I bend my knee to Rhaenyra I’m leaving my sister and her children with the vipers.”
Suddenly your hands are pried apart. “Stop hurting yourself.”
The authority in Jacaerys tone takes you by surprise. Like most dragons, he had a fiery temper, but this was different. It was as if he was putting all his built-up rage aside to protect you. Meekly, you say, “habit.”
Jacaerys inspects your fingertips, frowning as he takes in the older cuts along with the newer ones. He turns your left hand over and runs his thumb over your palm. “I remember playing outside in the gardens when you fell and cut your hand. I’m surprised it didn’t scar.”
“I remember…” Despite your eyes becoming glossy, a chuckle escapes your lips. “My mother somehow blamed you for my falling, and you hid in your quarters for days.”
“I hid in my quarters because Ser Harwin saw me attempt to kiss your hand; I thought my mother and father would be mad when he told them.”
You smile; this was the first time you heard his version; all you remember clearly was your mother yelling in the privacy of her apartments that the ‘eldest bastard’ was to blame. “I’m guessing they weren’t?”
“Once I explained that I wanted to comfort you, she went to visit King Viserys and proposed our betrothal.” He lets go of your hands and moves his own up to gently cup your face.
“Things could have been so different if my grandsire hadn’t gotten into my mother's head. Do you think we would have been happy?”
“We still could be.”
You feel as if the air has been sucked from your lungs, making it hard to breathe. “Wh-what do you mean?” Jacaerys couldn’t possibly be implying what you thought he did. “What do you mean we still could be?”
“Marry me, here in Winterfell.”
“You have more courage than any knight I know for even suggesting such a thing.”
A smile curls on his lips. “It’s not a jest. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember; if you say no, I will respect that. But if you agree, for the rest of my life, I will spend every day loving you and keeping you safe. Nobody will ever be able to hurt you again.”
His eyes follow your movement as you bring his fingers to your mouth and plant a gentle kiss on them. “My sweet prince, we cannot. Aegon told me, If I betray him, then it’s your life he will take.”
“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
Since Northern wedding vows were shared in front of a weirwood tree in the presence of the old god that they believed in, you wanted to be careful not to offend them with your Old Valyrian custom, so Jacaerys purposed you did the ceremony yourselves, outside, surrounded by nothing but the moonlight and your dragons flying above.
You cut each other's lips with a blade made of dragonglass. Jacaerys cuts his hand and rubs a mark on each of your foreheads to signify the continuation of your bloodline. You pledge to each other, “one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”
“I’ve va moriot jorrāelatan ao.”
“My sweet Jacaerys, I feel the same way.”
Your breath catches in your throat, and saying everything you wish becomes difficult. Jace leans down, pressing his cold lips against your own. An electric spark you’ve never felt passes through you; it was strong enough to make the snow nipping at your skin momentarily disappear. You wanted this; you wanted him. Jacaerys finally being yours felt surreal—a dream you didn’t want to wake up from.
He pulls back slightly and mumbles against your lips, “We should go back inside. I don’t want my bride to catch a cold.”
Nervously, you walk towards the bed covered in layers of fur and find yourself almost digging at your nails again, but when you feel a gentle kiss pressed to the back of your neck, the tension you're holding eases slightly, but the butterflies in your stomach aren’t completely gone.
“We don’t need to do anything,” Jacaerys says quietly. “We are married now; there is no rush.”
You did want to be intimate with Jace, but now that you were standing here, you felt unworthy of him. Bruises from Aegon holding you tightly still lingers on your skin, and it made you feel disgusting.
“I do, but... I’m afraid of what comes next,” you admit. “The repercussion of—”
He cuts you off with a kiss and says, “Whatever happens next, I’ll protect you.”
For once you hold your tongue, not wanting to loudly question how impossible that would be, You sigh, “I wish I could turn all the thoughts in my brain off, even for a short time, so I could revel in my husband's warmth.”
“I could help with that.”
Curious, you lock eyes with him. “What do you mean?”
“I could make you feel good without having sex, but only if you wish it.”
Chewing on your bottom lip, you nod. You weren’t entirely sure what his plan was, but you trusted Jace enough to follow through with his words. Taking your hand, he guides you to lay back on the bed. He kisses down your neck. “Promise me, you’ll tell me if you want me to stop.”
“I promise.”
Jacaerys kisses down your clothed body until he reaches your thighs. He pushes your skirts up to your waist, then slowly pulls your small cloth down. You await the stinging stretch of Jace pushing his cock into you at any second, but instead you feel his hot breath on your core. “Wh—what are you doing?”
“I’m going to taste the sweetest thing the gods ever made.”
“Do you mean—oh fuck!”
Jace spreads your folds open with his fingers, then dips his tongue inside of you.
“Gods, that feels good!”
One of your trusted ladies in waiting once told you that a gold cloak had ‘eaten her cunny’ and shared how good it felt. Ever since you had been curious about the act, this was far better than anything you could have imagined. Jace hooks his arms around your thighs, holding you in place while turning his attention to your clit and flicking over it with his tongue.
Lewd moans fall from your mouth as the coil in your stomach snaps, and you reach the first climax a man has ever given you.
Jace wipes his glistening lips and chin with his sleeve before moving up the bed and laying beside you. He presses a soft kiss to your lips, then gently caresses the soft flesh of your thigh. “We don’t need to go any further.“
“I want you, Jace; I want this.”
Hearing those words fall from your lips, he quickly lowers his breeches until his hard cock springs free. Jace rolls over, lines himself up with you, and slowly begins to push inside you. His thrusts are gentle as his touch is soft, making you feel cared for, almost safe. Jace peppers your neck in kisses while bringing his thumb to your clit and starts to rub it, taking great pleasure in how tightly you squeeze him. “Gods,” he moans. “You’re so perfect, my love; I think you were made for me.”
Tears threaten to fall from your eyes, but you fight to hold them back, not wanting to ruin the moment. Jace notices and immediately stops his movements. “Am I hurting you? Do you want me to stop?”
“No, keep going, please, please!”
Slowly he starts to thrust into you again; he seems unsure until you wrap your legs around his waist, which encourages him to go faster again. It doesn’t take long for you to reach your peak for the second time, and Jacaerys isn’t far behind.
Your fingers glide over Jacaerys bare back as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. The both of you were sticky with sweat, but you’d stopped caring hours ago.
While being so caught up in making love, Jacaerys hadn’t noticed the bruises on your body until he collapsed, panting and gasping beside you. If it wasn’t for exhaustion overtaking him, he would still be expressing his fury.
“What are you thinking about?” He asks, his voice laced with sleep.
“How the sun is rising.”
Looking out the window, you can see the orange and pink hues of the sky, and the snowfall is becoming heavier. You take a deep breath, feeling the cool morning air fill your lungs.
Whatever happens next, you must remember that you’re the blood of the dragon, and you must be strong.
I’ve always loved you — I’ve va moriot jorrāelatan ao
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brokenmenswhore · 6 months ago
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release | jacaerys velaryon
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pairing: jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader
summary: jace is on the brink of snapping and lashing out toward his mother and her council for their lack of action against the greens, so you give him another outlet for his frustration
warnings: smut (MDNI 18+), rough sex, jace is a lil rough & feral in this one, threats (reader consents but may appear as noncon/dubcon)
────── ☾ ──────
“And what of those who sent him?” Jacaerys snapped, questioning his mother as they buried yet another body.
He was angry. He couldn’t help but lose people. Everyone around him kept fleeing or dying, and he tried desperately to hold his tongue, but his patience was slipping. War was inevitable, and he was frustrated at his mother’s lack of action toward the opposing force. He wanted revenge, retaliation, and most of all, he wanted to be the one to give it.
As the eldest son, however, he tried not to cause a scene, knowing he played an important role in this war, and hoping that his silence and unwavering support of his mother’s decisions would breed the proper trust that was needed to allow him more involvement and access in the war.
He was evidently tense at council meetings. His tongue was becoming sharper with each sentence related to the war. He couldn’t help it. He pushed through the doors to your chambers, angry and frustrated from the events of the day.
He stopped short when he saw you turn in your chair to face him. Taking a deep breath, the tension in his body dropped. “I need a hug.”
You smiled, standing and approaching him, wrapping your arms around his waist. You remained a step lower than him in the entrance. He rested his chin on the top of your head.
“I just don’t understand why she won’t do anything,” he began, “I know she doesn’t want this war. I don’t want this war, but it’s happening. We have all lost so much, and it will not stop. Why won’t she do something?”
“Perhaps she believes it can still be avoided,” you responded.
“How much blood from my family must be split before she realizes it can’t?”
Your heart ached for him. You wanted to hold him in the hug forever, curing all his pain and never letting him out of the room.
“I’m sorry, Jacaerys.”
“It is not a fault of yours,” he replied, “it is just exhausting. I wish for a break from all of this, even if just momentary. I feel as if any moment, I may break, and I do not wish to take these frustrations out on my mother or her council. It would only cause the situation to worsen.”
You looked up at him, “then take it out on me.”
“What?”
“Take your frustrations out on me, Jace.”
“You do not deserve such treatment.”
You sighed, “but I am asking for it. Allow yourself to have an outlet. Why else am I here?”
Jacaerys was bewildered, “you are not here for me to take my anger out on. I would not do such a thing.”
“I wish for you to relax. I would not speak the offer if I did not mean it. Please, Jace.”
Jace leaned down to kiss you, initiating a sweet, intimate kiss before his frustrations took over and he deepened the kiss, gripping your thighs, causing you to jump and wrap your legs around his waist. He continued to kiss you as you clung to his shoulders, his steps towards the bed shaking you and causing you to nearly fall.
The Velaryon prince was usually quite nice to you, making sure to take things slow and constantly checking in on your comfort and pleasure. He would typically slowly drop your back onto the mattress, but tonight, he quite literally pushed you down, keeping your legs wrapped around his waist as he kissed you into the mattress.
You moaned at the eagerness of it all, Jace’s hands running up and down your side, gripping your waist and pushing your hips down, until your legs were no longer wrapped around his body. Never breaking the kiss, he lifted up your nightdress, his fingers finding their way under your small clothes, not giving you time to ease into it as he began roughly rubbing circles on your clit.
You squealed into the kiss. Jace moved to begin sucking bruises into your neck, his hair falling in front of his face, as he continued to rub you. You couldn’t help but moan, trying your hardest to remain as quiet as possible, since his little brother’s chambers were just a wall away.
“He’s not here,” Jace groaned.
You could barely speak. “What?”
“He’s not in his chambers. He’s out with Arrax. Stop holding back,” Jace demanded, “wanna hear what I’m doing to you.”
This controlling nature was a change, but you didn’t mind it at all. You stopped trying to quiet yourself, a moan of his name leaving your lips as he pushed a finger into you.
“That’s it,” he cooed, “you sound so pretty.”
“T-thank you,” you responded.
Jacaerys didn’t stop curling his finger inside of you, but giggled, “did you just thank me?”
“Mhm,” you moaned.
“You’re too cute,” he said, breaking his frustrated and controlling demeanor for a second, the compliment making your heart swell as he continued to fuck you with his fingers.
He felt you start to squeeze, and he immediately pulled his hand away from you. You sighed in disappointment.
He lifted you from under your arms, shifting you so you were sitting up, as he began to undo his breeches.
“I just wish I could go to King’s Landing,” he started, pushing his small clothes down and allowing his cock to be free, “I’d kill every last one of them.”
He gripped your hair, pushing your face down until it was level with his cock. “Open.”
You did as he told you, opening your mouth as he pushed his cock into your mouth, immediately hitting the back of your throat. He was big, too big to fit completely in your mouth, but you were getting better and better at breathing through your nose to avoid gagging around his cock.
“Not today,” he sighed, “stop holding back or I’ll fuck it out of your throat.”
You listened to him, forgetting everything you know about avoiding gagging, and allowing him to direct your head up and down, his cock hitting the back of your throat with every single thrust. You gagged and choked around him, but he didn’t let up.
“They think they’re so big and bad,” he said, breathy from the pleasure of your mouth around him, “if only they were around me. I could take all of them. I could end their whole fucking line.”
He began to thrust his hips at a vicious pace. You had no choice but to take it, trying your best to continue sucking and swirling your tongue around the head of his cock as he fucked your mouth mercilessly.
“I’d end their whole. fucking. line,” he said again, speaking through each thrust and throwing his head back in pleasure.
“Fuck, get up, I’m not done with you yet,” he commanded, pulling you off of him to stop himself from coming before he wanted to.
You didn’t dare adjust your position without his say so. You sat there waiting for him to put you where he wanted you. He flipped your body over, pressing your face into the pillow as he pulled your hips up to meet his. He took both of your wrists in one hand, locking them behind your back as his other hand guided his cock into your entrance and then moved to your waist as he started rocking into you, pushing you further and further into the mattress.
Your body folded and became weak, as much of you falling into the bed as was possible, the only thing keeping your hips upward was the rough grip Jacaerys had on them. You whined and moaned, your entire body rocking forward with each snap of his hips.
“Seven hells,” he breathed out, his pace never relenting, “are you still okay?”
“Mhm,” you moaned out, unable to form a coherent sentence.
“Shit, I hate not being able to hear you,” he said, pulling out of you and flipping your body so you were flat on the mattress, facing him. “That’s better,” he smiled, immediately fucking back into you with no warning.
You cried out, grabbing his face and kissing him through the intensity. He grunted into the kiss, having never fucked you, or anyone for that matter, this hard before. All of his pent up rage and frustration was being taken out on your cunt.
Your back arched off the mattress, Jace taking the opportunity to wrap an arm around your waist, holding you even closer to him.
He spoke with every thrust, “I. Want. Revenge.”
“I k-know,” you moaned out.
“I. Want. Fucking. Revenge.”
It was overwhelming, and the intensity with which he was fucking you started to make your head cloudy. “J- Jace, it’s too m-“
Jacaerys cut you off by kissing you, doing everything he can to stop your words. “You can take it, baby.”
“I c-“ the pressure was so intense. You could feel your walls start to squeeze around his cock, and his pace was relentless.
“You can,” he said, looking directly into your eyes, “and you will.”
You nodded and let him continue splitting you open on his cock, dropping your waist down to the mattress again as he fucked into you, hands rough on your waist as they pushed you down.
Your eyes filled with tears. Jacaerys had never seen you like this, crying from the intensity, sweat sticking your hair to your forehead as you writhed under him. He didn’t know he was capable of making you feel like this, and he didn’t know you would look so fucking pretty as a result.
“Fuck, baby,” he growled, “I’m close.”
You couldn’t even respond, you just continued to whine and moan under him, watching his face contort as he released inside of you. The final few thrusts of his hips were cruel, his large length hitting that spongy spot inside of you that made you see stars. Through his high, he could feel you close, and he forced himself to continue pushing in and out of you until you met your climax.
Your legs shook as a wave of pleasure washed over you, your entire body eventually melting into the bed with weakness. Jace waited a moment before pulling out of you, kissing you as he did so.
You tried hard to catch your breath, but it took you longer than you anticipated. Jace, ever so attentive, looked down at you and asked, “you okay?”
You couldn’t help but smile. “I should start making you mad.”
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withjinkoo · 5 months ago
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I don't want him, I need him!
˗ˏˋ A Golden Crown ˎˊ˗ Jacaerys Velaryon
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jacaerys velaryon x aunt/targ!fem!reader [part two of a golden cage] words: 11.3k SORRY synopsis: "Princess? Is it true, you can see the entire world on dragonback?” notes: hello im back with the second part to a golden cage! follows a non-canon timeline/events; characters aged-up to 20/21. They are a bit insane for each other in this one <3 oops<3 warnings: canon-typical mentions of war/violence, canon-typical incest, brief mention of blood, angst/grieving, hand kink, less enemies to lovers and more yearning, switch!Jace this time, hair pulling kink, oral (f&m receiving), mentions of virginity/experience, fingering, improper use of High Valyrian again (and obviously idk if its correct nor do i care), they have a bit of a marriage kink i fear feedback is appreciated <3 requests open. masterlist
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DAWN HAS BARELY LICKED THE COAST WHEN YOU ARE SUMMONED TO THE QUEEN’S APARTMENTS. 
A concealed yawn, flushed cheeks - sleepily, you exchange whispers with your handmaids as your hair is styled and a dress is laced onto your waking frame. A quiet morrow, spurred by the diminishing dark blanket of night and and the beginnings of chirping birds as you eye the guards that meet you at your chamber doors with confusion. 
They stand tall, their armor glinting in the rising light - you stare, somewhat foolishly, with suspicion - You’ve never had personal guards here at Dragonstone, but as they begin to escort you, a sinking feeling falls into your stomach. 
Last night, your mind whispers, they found out about last night. A foolish anxiety, you realize; there were no guards in the hall between you and Jacaerys’ rooms - you’d delivered a story of sneaking to the kitchens to your handmaidens upon returning, telling them your dinner had been interrupted and you’d amended your hunger. 
You had, in a way - but not down in the kitchens.
The click of soled shoes down the stone hall masks the sharp inhale you let out at such vivid memories - waking up this morning, still syrupy with remnants of your previous night between your thighs and a desire to feel him against you. You wonder, absently, what Jacaerys did once he returned to his quarters last night; the thought burns your cheeks further. 
You do not even consider your own concern until you are crossing halls to the eastern wing of the castle; your brows furrow when you ask softly what the meaning of this early meeting is - silence is your answer. 
The pebble in the pit of your stomach sinks lower when you turn the hall towards the Queen’s council chamber - Baela and Rhaena walk from the Southern quarters, their own confusion upon their faces. “Good morrow,” You greet them, blinking at the absence of guards accompanying them; Baela’s brow furrows in return. “Good morrow,” she responds cautiously. “Why such early summons?”
Rhaena nods in agreement, her eyes scanning the corridor behind you as if searching for answers; a gentle grasp of your forearm before you’re all three leaning together, heads hovering in a conspiratorial whisper. “Did you hear anything? Did something happen last night?”
You feel yourself turn hot rather instantly, innocent as the question is: 
Did something happen last night? You’re reminded rather vividly of what activities you found yourself engaging in last night; Jacaerys, with his smooth hands and scorching stare, lips kiss-bitten, whispering to you in High Valyrian. The muscles of your inner thighs, burning with strain even when you awoke, the memory of his breath against your core and his mouth against yours. 
Instantly you shake your head, a mix of embarrassment and concern knitting your brows; “No, nothing I know of. I thought perhaps you both might know something - my guard hasn’t said a word since he escorted me.” You recover quickly. 
The three of you exchange uneasy glances and relent the odd undercurrent of urgency as you push through the threshold into the council chamber. A burst of air, cooling against your beating heart, brings you flanked with your cousins to face the strategy room. 
The gentle smell of morning tea and fruits welcome your empty stomach with a grumble and you bow at your Queen sister, who stands at the head. 
The long, wooden table is surrounded - your uncle, nodding to his daughters as they take their places standing next to him, Rhaenys and the Maester just across from them; Joffrey and the babies are absent, likely in their playroom with the nannies. You swallow - the air is thick with some anxious energy and you are quick to divert the attention from you as you take place aside Rhaenys. 
No moment after you have just graced your Queen and the others at the council with a good morrow do the large wooden doors creak open once more.
 Jacaerys, freshly shaven and hair still damp from bath, enters. The morning light yawns into the room - redder, more orange than the quiet whispers of eve, the sun off of Dragonstone sends streaks through the obsidian and into the honey of Jacaerys’ eyes. 
The prince is addressed by nods and murmured greetings from the room as he takes his place at the table - a tightness grows in your throat as his eyes, laced with curiosity, search until they land on you. 
His movements do not falter; practically, dutifully, Jacaerys stands before his place, hands falling onto the top of the carved chair. They are long, with slender fingers that curl over the top, veins that split off in deltas before rosy knuckles and two dark signet rings- capable hands. You blink hard, skipping your gaze over his hands and up - to his shoulders, the same ones he’d so dutifully laid your thighs upon as he knelt between your legs just last night- 
You snap your eyes, forcing them to him in a wash of embarrassment over your scandalous thoughts. 
As he comes to find his place, he gives a small nod to you, a gentle dimple poking his cheek in the short shadow of morning. Torturous. 
You look away quickly as you try to cast out all thoughts of him; you cannot bear the smirk you see growing upon his lips in your peripheral vision as you wait for the Queen to take her seat.  
It isn't until she bids you all seated that you notice what lies in front of her, and with it grows a fear deep within your breast. With a dry swallow, you watch as Rhaenyra takes into her hands a raven’s letter.
The broken wax has crumbled, but its seal bears the unmistakable sigil in its dark green wax: the Iron Throne.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice.” She begins, “We received early this morning a message from King’s Landing.” 
You shift in your seat, heart pounding, feeling Jacaerys' presence across from you even without looking at him; The atmosphere is charged with the weight of Queen Rhaenyra’s voice as glances are thrown around. You catch Baela’s eye, the concern of your own mirrored in her expression. 
“From the Hand of the King, Ser Otto Hightower,” Rhaenyra begins, her voice steady, laced with an undercurrent of steel, “It has come to our attention that the Dowager Queen Alicent’s eldest daughter has been kidnapped from King’s Landing.”
A breath falls from your lips, eyes widening in surprise. A murmur of concern ripples through the room, but Queen Rhaenyra continues, her voice unwavering.
This is a grave violation: This coerced departure is a grave misstep and betrayal of her responsibilities to the Crown - constituting the highest treason as sister to the King. Immediate return is demanded to rectify this misunderstanding - failure of this will constitute unavoidable consequences.”
Daemon, leaning to pour himself some tea, lets out a dark chuckle. “Treason, they say. More like liberation from their clutches.” 
It is a tone which you cannot afford to laugh at - nobody can. Rhaenyra’s gaze flicks to him briefly, as he gestures to you with the teapot, lifting a brow in question. You nod stiffly, throat dry as you look back to the Queen, who resumes reading:
“The Princess is hereby demanded to be safely returned to King’s Landing. Failure to do so will result in severe repercussions. King Aegon II will not rest until his sister is returned and those responsible are brought to justice.”
The room falls silent as the Queen lowers the letter, her eyes finding your own. 
A third betrayal; like some passage of the new gods, telling of foes coming in three. You grip the side of your chair, eyes swimming with hatred for what they’ve done to your family. “It seems our enemies are eager to paint us as villains,” she says, her voice carrying the weight of authority and indignation. “But we know the truth.”
You cannot find words; floundering, your mouth opens, though nothing but shock, anger, fear courses through your veins. Kidnapped? 
Baela leans forward, “What will we do, your Grace?”
You, plunged in a sea of ice - betrayal, your mother’s eyes and your brother’s cruel tongue, hatred sewn into every look given to you by the King’s court members. And now, they wish for you to return? Spreading the narrative that you were kidnapped? 
“We must respond swiftly,” Jacaerys says, brows drawn, “Show them we do not take to threats kindly.” 
Queen Rhaenyra nods, “There must be a response - but we must also be strategic. We cannot afford to be drawn into open conflict just yet.” 
It is true. After the loss of Lucerys, it is not the time to engage in conflict; strategy must be held over any will of force. Feeling the weight of their eyes on you, you take a deep breath and speak up, your voice steady. “Loyalty is not just about words, but actions. Actions that demonstrate commitment, even in the face of…baseless accusations."
You feel Jacaerys's gaze on you, but you refuse to meet it directly, instead focusing on the others in the room who listen intently.
"I choose to be here because my loyalty lies with Queen Rhaenyra and the realm," you continue, your tone measured but firm.  You do not let your eyes land on the man who sits across from you; the one you’ve had to convince time and time again that you are no traitor. Something like frustration brims at the surface of your tongue, but you mind your manners and bite it back. 
Disdain bites somewhere within you; now, suddenly, Jacaerys has come to your side so quickly? You find yourself bitter at the thought of him suddenly coming to his senses after allowing a small chance of indulgence in such an…improper way. 
His words from the night before sting: Is it true that your taste in fashion matches your taste in allegiances? A bit confused, I presume.
Soon they all echo in your mind - his taunts, jabs, those mutterings from under his breath. You’re nothing but a traitor…A snake in dragon’s clothing. A puppet, dancing on strings pulled by whoever promises you a bit of power.
You refuse to meet his eye, clearing your throat as you tilt your chin, "Anyone who doubts my allegiance has mistaken my intentions for weakness. Perhaps I should deliver the message myself.” 
The room remains silent, the weight of your words hanging in the air. You resist the urge to glance at Jacaerys, knowing that the hurt and frustration still simmer beneath the surface of your calm demeanor, and a spare glance might undo your manner. 
Daemon sits forward with interest, lifting a brow, “You make a suggestion to return to King’s Landing yourself.” He observes, watching your expression for any betrayal of schemes, “To proclaim your allegiance to Queen Rhaenyra.” Several eyes slide to you after this accusation and you close your lips, looking at your queen. 
Jacaerys, unable to keep silent, leans forward in protest. "We cannot allow that," he states firmly, his jaw set as he speaks directly to his mother, "Sending her back to King's Landing would only play into their hands."
He pauses, as if weighing his next words carefully.
"We must show strength and unity here. If we send her away, we not only weaken our position but also risk her safety," Jacaerys asserts, his voice steady but with an underlying intensity; your lips purse, flickering down to your empty plate as a rush of affection pulls at your chest. 
Rhaenyra’s gaze softens slightly with some kind of surprise as she looks at her son, your own expression shocked.
Daemon, ever the provocateur, holds a playful glint in his eye, "If Jacaerys is so concerned about her safety, perhaps he should teach her to wield a sword, like he learned as a squire in his youth." An inkling of jest brings a sigh from Rhaenys and Rhaenyra alike; you look down to the empty plate before you, at the steam that swirls up from the teacup. 
You truly do not have the skills you wish to possess; though you’ve been a dragonrider your whole life, should you ever find yourself on the ground with a weapon in your hands, you’ll be useless. The thought of Jace teaching you lessons sparks some kind of embarrassment through you - to show him your weakness, to admit a flaw in your armor… you swallow down the defensive wall that slides up. 
Jace stiffens at the remark, a faint blush coloring his cheeks and his jaw tightening as he turns towards Daemon with a glare. "This is not a matter of personal sentiment," he retorts sharply, his tone defensive. "It is my duty to ensure the safety and well-being of all within her Grace’s realm. Do you really believe Alicent will let her leave once she’s there?"
Your cheeks seem to be permanently heated; biting your lip, you resist sending a sharp look to your uncle. Rhaenyra, sensing the tension, interjects calmly, "Jacaerys, your concern is noted." She turns her gaze to you, giving you the floor amidst the charged atmosphere of the council chamber - with your name, she asks, “What do you think?” 
It is indeed uncomfortable to be scrutinized by those around you - to return to your family, to face them and expect to be returned unscathed? It’s much more likely your throat is slit in the night by your brother, or being chained up below the keep the moment you touch foot in King’s Landing. 
Taking a breath, you speak carefully, "I… agree with Jacaerys. Sending me back could be seen as a concession." You wring your hands together, a habit you’d picked up from your younger sister Helaena in your youth; at the memory of her, that soft smile and sweet humming, your heart pangs. You shake your head, “They’d never let me leave.” 
Rhaenys nods thoughtfully beside you, "It would weaken our position, especially if we are to fairly assume they would not grant her safe voyage back to Dragonstone.” 
Your sister nods in thought, "Perhaps a different approach is needed," she says, her gaze shifting to you once more. "We will have you write a letter personally in response to your grandsire, clarifying your position. Send it by raven this evening."
“Yes, your grace.” You agree. 
As the council delves into the specifics of the response, the memories of last night come creeping back into your head, try as you do to ignore them; a silent undercurrent, a reminder of the sacrifices necessary to personal desires for the sake of political obligations. 
A reminder, a mutter of last night that replays in your mind: You are quite beautiful like this. You do not dare look over at Jace, palms sweating as a longing desire pumps the blood to your veins. You take a shaky sip of your tea, biting your lip - never before have you thought a woman could experience such…selfish pleasure - taking, taking, taking. It is with a jolt of heat that you realize: you’d likely take anything Jacaerys would give you, and perhaps that is what you fear the most. 
You’re not betrothed, you remind yourself. Last evening was a mistake. 
The drone of a voice is cotton to your ears; Under the table, you suddenly feel Jacaerys’ foot brush against your own - whether by accident or design you can’t be sure, but you jolt slightly, eyes flicking to him.
 The touch sends a shiver down your spine, and despite the gravity of the situation, a small, traitorous part of you enjoys the attention as your eyes flicker back to his own. He watches you, a brow twitching, as if he cannot help himself - with an urge you do not resist, you allow your own foot to brush in return; a slight slide against his calf, scarcely there. An admission of some kind, even as his eyes return to the conversation at hand. 
You’re beginning to believe you choose to do these things just to see the pink blush spread across Jacaerys’ face - you find that you’d be happy to do anything to see that flush again. 
You are very rudely ripped from your thoughts as your uncle clears his throat; with a blink, you turn your attention back to the task at hand at the tail end of a discussion, “-Did they really expect her to return quietly?” Rhaena asks. 
Something prods the back of your mind, and you bite your lip. 
“They waited two weeks to declare this alleged kidnapping,” You say slowly, gathering attention from the attendees, “It must have been for a reason. There can be no mistaking; they saw me leave, it was not easy. I dragged a Whitecloak out to the sea with the mouth of my dragon when I did finally escape.” You admit somewhat bashfully. 
Several faces turn to you in surprise at your candid admission. You had indeed left in a flurry of anger, fueled by determination and perhaps a touch of recklessness.
Your half-sister’s brow furrows slightly, her expression thoughtful. "A deliberate delay," she muses aloud, her gaze sharpening with insight. "They seek to paint your departure as a kidnapping rather than a choice." Her eyes meet yours, a silent understanding passing between queen and subject.
“To make me seem,” You swallow, “Delicate.” 
Jace’s eyes flicker to you, but you promptly ignore the stare once more, his stare burning through you.
Daemon leans back in his chair, nodding slowly. "Crafty, indeed," he remarks, his voice tinged with admiration for their opponents' cunning. "They mean to leverage this against us." 
You shift uncomfortably in your seat, the weight of their scrutiny heavy. Jacaerys, perhaps sensing your unease, clears his throat softly. "We must respond swiftly," he suggests, his voice firm with determination. "To show them that we will not be manipulated. That she is not weak."
Queen Rhaenyra nods in agreement, her resolve firm; "You will draft the letter," she tells you, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Make it clear that your allegiance lies here, and that any attempt to manipulate the truth will not go unanswered." 
You nod, still reeling in shock at the letter sent to you. "Yes, your grace." 
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YOU FIND YOURSELF WEARING FITTED ARMOR OVER YOUR CLOTHING THAT VERY EVENING. 
Indeed with a bit of reluctance, you know your uncle’s words are right; after sending a raven to return to your Grandsire’s Maester, Queen Rhaenyra had suggested that, despite her husband’s teasing words, perhaps it would be obliging for you to learn to handle yourself should you ever find yourself in danger. 
The practice yard is surprisingly alive with clashing steel and grunts of exertion; determined to clear your mind and improve what little skills you possess, you seek out Ser Marbrand from across the yard. 
Arms crossed, the Queensguard watches as the men in the yard spar - a flare of anxiety as you spare a glance around, the thick black of your cloak fluttering in the breeze. 
“Ser Marbrand.” You call his attention as you near, hands clasped together. He greets you with a small bow, turning to face you, “My lady.” He nods. 
You purse your lips, “I was hoping I might train with you today?” A flash of something warm in his eyes as he nods easily, "Aye, m'lady. I've been expecting you."
You blink in surprise, letting your head tilt slightly, "Expecting me?" You parrot. The wind off the island whips your hair into your eyes, and you pull it back with a lifted brow. 
He nods, "The King Consort's orders. He thought you might benefit from some training. And," he glances over your shoulder, "His Grace the Prince is to oversee your session."
Oh, gods. 
You follow his gaze behind you to see Jacaerys sparring with another soldier; you blink, face hot with irritation at Daemon. Always one to poke the bee’s nest. 
“I’m sure he is quite busy, Ser,” You say quickly, protesting; the thought of Jace scrutinizing you, teaching you with those hands and his face and- you’ve already begun to sweat. Ser Marbrand shakes his head, "Busy or not, orders are orders. Besides, His Grace surely will be more than willing to make time for you, Princess." He says, chivalrously. Ironic, you think - before yesterday, you could barely get a word in with His Grace Jacaerys before he’d storm the other way or hide in his chambers. 
You remain to follow the man, pursing your lips in irritation as you walk with him towards Jace.  The sun against your eyes, you watch with a silent curiosity - memories of watching he and Luke in your youth, sparring with trainers in the yard of the Red Keep; when Ser Harwin Strong would wield a sword and guide their young fights. 
You must not have seen Jace spar since you were near three and ten - back when you were giddy to be betrothed to such a valiant boy, kind and strong-willed. The memory is bittersweet as you watch him move now, fully grown and confident. 
Jacaerys, mid-swing, notices you approaching beside Ser Marbrand and finishes his bout with a swift, decisive move- in the glint of sun, he steps back, nodding to his sparring partner before turning to you. The sun has kissed him in his practice outside; freckles across the bridge of his nose and cheeks, one just upon the bow of his lip. You blink back the urge to smooth your thumb upon it. 
The prince’s surprise is evident, though he quickly schools his expression into one of polite attentiveness as he greets you with a soft voice and a nod. 
"My Prince," Ser Marbrand begins, "as per the King Consort’s orders, you are to supervise m’lady’s training today."
Jacaerys blinks, clearly taken aback; you feel just as slighted by Daemon’s clear jest, but the Prince quickly recovers with a polite, honorable nod. He glances at you briefly before turning to Ser Marbrand. "I... see. Of course."
The Queensguard raises an eyebrow but nods, handing Jacaerys a training sword and gesturing to an open space. "Very well. I'll leave her in your capable hands."
Capable hands. Your stomach flips, eyes unintentionally falling to Jacaerys’ hands, where they hold the hilt of his sword tight. 
Soon, the man is gone; a silence covers you awkwardly and you bite your lip as Jace looks towards his own boots in the dirt, taking a deep breath. “Right, shall we begin?” He offers.  
You should by now be used to Daemon's meddling - perhaps this was a ploy to foster camaraderie and trust between your formerly betrothed and yourself, yet indeed it feels more like some torture, a tease.
 A curse from the gods, for your sins.
When you give him a tight nod in affirmation, Jacaerys takes up position opposite you. "We should start with the basics," he said briskly, his tone professional. "Grip your sword firmly but not too tight.” You do as he says, but his hands are on yours; palms large, they cover yours easily, unfurling your pointer finger to re-grip it on the leather of the training sword. Blinking at the image of your hand in his, you become dizzy with his proximity. His hands are soft, warm - strong. 
Your face burns when his finger gently traces the inside of your palm,“Your fingers must-"
Panicking, you jump, "-I know how to hold a sword," you cut in, your voice sharper than intended.
He pauses, his jaw tightening briefly as he eyes you; For a moment, you know he can read right through you. "Forgive me," he replies evenly, schooling the twitch of his lips, "Let's begin with a simple parry."
The lesson begins, and it’s immediately clear that Jacaerys is both a skilled fighter and an ardent teacher; standing before you, sword in hand, his expression a mixture of patience and determination. The sun casts a golden hue over his features, highlighting a stray curl across his forehead that begs your fingers to brush away. You don't, though; instead you remain, desperate to feel his body against yours again and terrified of what it means. 
"Keep your stance steady," he instructs, gesturing to your hips, "Balance is crucial."
You mirror his stance, albeit awkwardly, the weight of the sword feeling unfamiliar in your grip. "Like this?" you ask, trying painfully to focus on the task at hand despite the lingering tension between you.
He nods, adjusting your posture gently with respectful hands: A glimpse of the boy you knew in your youth; the graceful nod, gentle instructions, flushed cheeks. You hope he does not feel you shiver when his hand pulls your hip, lingering for a moment longer before he pulls away. "Better. Now, let's try the strike I showed you."
As you attempt the movement, your sword clangs against his, the sound echoing in the quiet courtyard. Frustration bubbles within you, fueled by the reminder of your inexperience, a worry nibbling at the back of your mind, some old insecurity fostered in the ravages of your unloved childhood. Must she always be annoying someone?
"Again," Jacaerys encouraged, his voice calm yet insistent, brow drawn low as his eyes take in your form. You bite your lip, wishing you could have had your peace learning with Ser Marbrand. 
You move to strike; he blocks it with such ease it makes you huff in exasperation. A light tap on your stomach with his own training sword - he shakes his head. 
A memory, flashing in your mind at the action: your fingers, tugging his hair until he looks up at you - gently continuing his ministrations upon your heat, shaking his head as he shushes you. His voice, low against your trembling skin. Gaomagon daor vīlībagon ziry, Sodjisto. Do not fight it. 
You set your jaw, flustered and torn between such emotions - his voice brings you back to the yard. “Again.” He orders. 
Gathering what strength you remain, you lunge at him; He parries easily, his eyes never leaving yours as he nods patiently, “Better. But you’re still too predictable.”
Your jaw ticks once again, regretting ever having agreed to the Queen’s wishes: you’re now stuck with Jacaerys, your desire burning you to the touch each time you so much as grace your fingers against his, and your anxiety whispering in your ear - Must she always be annoying someone?
The lesson remains incredibly torturous. 
He is attentive, correcting your stance, your grip, the angle of your strikes, all with a mixture of patience and intensity. You begin to sweat, though the island boasts a cold seabreeze that blows your hair away from your face. It begins to dawn on you; he’s playing a game.  Jace’s touches begin to linger a moment too long - on your wrist, your arm, your hips; his breath warm on your neck as he adjusts your position. A wry grin when you stumble over your words. Each time he corrects you sparks a flare of anger and something else you’re not willing to name, and it is not long until the prince notices it. 
“You’re holding back,” he says as he blocks another strike. “Why?”
You pause, breathing hard, your eyes locked on his own with a breath of deception. “Maybe I’m afraid of hurting you.” You say, lifting a brow. 
He laughs, a short, sharp sound. “You won’t.” He assures you, regripping the training sword. 
It’s true; your moves are slow, ungraceful; next to him, you look like a stumbling little lamb. You grit your teeth, resisting a glare as he smirks gently in the light. 
With a huff of frustration, you attack again, putting all your strength into it. This time, he doesn’t hold back either - He disarms you after two short moves, his sword pressing against your throat; Then you’re both breathing hard, faces inches apart.
Oh. 
Hunger crawls its way up your throat. It burns- a real desire, as his breath hits your forehead, to feel his lips against you again. No, you school yourself, you mustn’t give in to temptation. 
“You need to keep your guard up,” Jacaerys says, his voice low as his eyes search yours, “Or you’ll leave yourself vulnerable.”
You glare at him, the frustration from the council meeting bubbling up as you sigh, "I'm trying, not all of us are born swordsmen. This isn't exactly my forte."
You watch his head dip down, close to your face - hair glinting in the sun as he shakes his head subtly. Your stomach flips, a slip of arousal as you smell that same cologne oil that curled you into his bedsheets the night before. 
A slight trickle of irritation leaks through his otherwise chivalrous, patient disposition as lifts his head again, leveling you with a look, "No, it really isn't."
The comment pricks at your pride; setting your jaw, you tear your eyes away from his plush lips, downturned in a frustrated pout. 
You can see the regret at his words as he sighs sharply. He breathes your name, "It takes practice. Even I had to learn."
"Easy for you to say," you shoot back, your voice tinged with sarcasm. "You were trained from childhood.” You state, taking a step back - his sword moves away from your throat, the pressure of the wood removed as you shake your head, “I can’t believe I have to do this,” Your voice, exhausted and petty with the humiliation of performing so poorly in front of Jacaerys, “Just because you wished to see me flail around with a sword.”
Jacaerys sighs, his patience clearly fraying, “I never suggested you take a blade in your hand.” he replies, his tone defensive.
“-Wouldn’t be the first time I did, would it?” You counter. At this, his eyes flicker down to your palm, bearing the nearly healed, puckered scars along the fulcrum of your fingers from where you’d taken his sword in your hand in this very courtyard. His voice, echoing through the empty stone walls those weeks ago. You think you can just waltz here, switch sides, and everything will be forgiven? That you can replace my brother? 
It seems he, too, recalls the words spit to each other that evening; with a sigh, he nods. "Perhaps it does not feel like it, but you've improved," he remarks, his voice softening, “Even in just a few hours.” 
A flash of guilt in your stomach as you avoid his gaze, nodding curtly as you hand him your sword from the ground. “Thank you, my Prince."
Your words must give him pause; with a hesitation that sends your heart stuttering, he looks down at you, squinting against the reflection of the sun on the shields beside you. 
His tone is cautious - you’re stuck counting the splatter of freckles which grace the strong slope of his nose, that speckle up his cheeks and lead you to his gentle eyes, usually so sharp with fire. He says your name so softly it sounds foreign. "Last night," he breathes - but it makes you tense. 
Fear, panic. Must she always be annoying someone? You cut him off, shaking your head quickly,  "Let's not talk about it." You saw weakly, sending him a close-lipped smile. 
You cannot talk about it, not now - if you do, the words will spill out; I am worried you hate me, how could you not hate me? My brothers called you a bastard. My brother took the throne from your mother. My own brother killed yours. I am too consumed with the desire to be loved by someone that I do not believe it is possible anymore. 
All you can do is look away, heartbeat in your throat. You know what I want, he’d said. Do you?
Jacaerys sighs, running a hand through his hair. His voice is gentle once again as it comes from his plush lips. "As you wish."
You glance around the training yard, noticing the curious glances from the soldiers and servants - several of whom avert their eyes when you look their way. You can’t help but to feel like a snake, come to nest in the dragonpit. "I should go," you decide, palms sweating as you turn away.
"Wait," Jacaerys calls out, his voice urgent. Heads turn, not just yours - he seems to register the panic in your eyes, and he shifts on his feet as he looks around at the others before returning his gaze. "Nyke jāhor daor ȳzaldrīzes hen ziry.” He calls; a warmth floods through you at his use of the language, knowing nobody else in the yard will understand what he says to you, “Ivestragī issa geron ao arlī." His eyes are kind, if not desperate; I will not speak of it. Let me walk you back.
You wish you didn’t immediately nod; barely a hesitation before you agree with a small, “Sȳrje.” 
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IT SEEMS THAT WHEN YOU WALK WITH JACAERYS, YOUR HANDS CANNOT HELP BUT BRUSH AGAINST EACH OTHER. 
It happens once and you pull your hand away slightly, taking a step sideways to avoid his warmth. It’s quiet, as he leads you up the path from the sparring yard and to the crossroads - your hands and shoulders brush once again as you take a small step towards the pathway to the cliffs; he, one to the castle. 
Jacaerys tilts his head towards the castle with a questioning look, but does not say a thing. A clear of your throat before you whisper, “I wasn’t planning on going to my quarters. I’d like to watch the sun set.” 
The slope of his shoulders catches your eye as he turns to you, clearing his throat with a nod that is so similar to how he once carried himself in your youth that you nearly forget where you are. 
His doublet is black, matching the cloak that flutters behind you in the gentle breeze; pinned with the sigil of his bloodline, he looks all the Prince he’s been raised to be. You look down, wondering what he might see when he looks at you, wearing black and red, your House’s dragon sigil on your chest. Perhaps, in another world, you and Jacaerys would be Lord and Lady of this very castle you look at. 
The thought strikes a deep melancholy through you, and as he begins to walk away, you gasp out a rush. “I wouldn’t mind some company.” 
He levies you with that look; indescribable, his lips pink and eyes burning with something - inhaling through his nose, he nods. 
You walk towards the cliffs in silence; the path winds rugged terrain with jagged rocks and ancient obsidian underfoot, and Jacaerys offers a hand to you as you climb down one boulder to settle into the small bedding of grass that watches the sea. You pretend the touch does not send sparks through your hand. 
The wind whips your hair as the breathtaking beauty of Dragonstone unfurls before you. The sky ablaze with the streaks of purple bled from the blue of daytime; releasing pink and gold, the sun sinks slowly into the vast expanse of the ocean. The waves crash against the rocks below, sending sprays of saltwater into the air, carrying the scent of the sea. 
When you lower yourselves to rest against the grass, it is quite pleasant. 
You know, however, what you’re both thinking: you came from that sea, bleeding and wheezing, just over the horizon - only weeks ago. And somewhere, in that very distance, your grandsire is likely reading your letter swearing to Queen Rhaenyra. 
The breeze dies slowly with the falling of the sun; your hair settles, Jace’s curls blowing just so in the breath of the ocean. It suits him, this island; it’s somewhere laced within that blood, the same blood you share. Your blood. 
After a moment, he speaks. 
“I know you don’t want to talk about it,” He starts, “But I’d be remiss if I didn’t say this.” His voice, so sincere; you cannot help but nod, giving the grace for him to speak, knowing at some point it will have to happen. 
“I was blinded by grief, when you returned.” He says quietly, thumb picking at the skin of his nail - a habit you’ve noticed he’s picked up in recent weeks. His younger brother Joffrey does it, too. “I didn’t want to let myself feel relieved when you came to us.” He shakes his head, clearing his throat. “Even though I was. It never quite felt like you belonged with…them.” 
You cannot speak; tears, welling but unshed in your eyes as you watch the set of the sun. He lets his words become swallowed by the wind for a few moments and gives you the grace of peace to gather your tears before they fall. 
After another minute of quiet, he shifts beside you. 
“Did you really drag a Whitecloak out to the bay in King’s Landing?” His voice is curious, soft; jesting. You let out a small laugh, feeling some kind of tension melt from your shoulders. 
“I’m afraid so,” You admit, recalling the day with a tight throat. You glance at the scar on your arm from where the guard’s sword had struck you; how your dragon had listened to your scream of pain, pierced him with its teeth, and thrown him down into the depths once you found your way out of the City. 
You take a deep breath; be it the sun warping the reflection upon the sea, or the heat of the man sitting beside you, the words you’ve been holding back for so long finally find their way to the surface. “I heard you,” you say quietly, “the night you left the Red Keep. I heard you talking to your mother and Daemon about your…” You feel a pang of vulnerability, “...concerns about marrying me.”
Jacaerys's expression softens, and he shifts uncomfortably, his voice tinged with regret. “I didn’t realize you were there,” he admits quietly. “I was foolish back then,” he begins, his voice tinged with self-reflection. “It was after that last dinner, when..” 
He trails off, and does not need to finish his words; you remember all too well Aemond’s antagonistic words against his parentage, Aegon’s tease over you and Jace’s betrothal - all of it, that night. 
You nod slowly; it feels like ages ago.  
“Like I said yesterday,” he continues, his expression shifting, “I... I didn’t know what I wanted then.”
His words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning; what could have been feels awfully close as your knee touches his own, your eyes over the ocean. His sword lies in the grass beside him, the silver metal reflecting the dying sun. You revel quietly in the kindness his voice can carry when he is not laced with mistrust or disdain. 
“It is a shame,” He starts again, hand roving through his curls,  “You will be a wonderful wife to whomever you marry."
Your heart catches in your throat - his candor catches you off guard, your chest soaring. His curls dance around his jaw.
“I’ll likely wish I were him for the rest of my life.” 
Jacaerys' words hang in the air - longing, a deep sadness that swirls within you for what could have been. You cannot find the words to respond as you stare into his eyes - they search you, open and dripping with honesty. His vulnerability has opened a door you've both tiptoed around for so long; you’re afraid to go through it, to admit what you’re telling yourself cannot be true. What you’ve told yourself your whole life. 
“Jace, I...” Your voice catches, nerves tingling with the weight of your own feelings; you look down in embarrassment. “...I’ve spent so much of my life trying to prove myself, to show people why I’m worthy of…” you trail off softly, eyes tracing the horizon where the sun dips closer to the edge of the world.
Now, if ever, you know you can be honest. You clear your throat, “If it were up to me, you would be that man.” You admit, not daring to look at him. 
Your heart beats hard in your throat; Jacaerys reaches out, his hand finding yours tentatively. You nearly jolt at the warm touch of his fingers, but you curl yours around his as you look down.
“You’ll make a fine King one day, Jacaerys,” You say with a small half smile, rising your eyes to watch him wistfully. His chin tilts down, eyes flickering from your own to your lips and back, laced with that same melancholia you feel. “And even after all this time, I still wish…” 
The unspoken wish is palpable between you when Jacaerys meets your gaze, his forehead resting on yours. 
“As do I.” He whispers. 
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IT IS IMPOSSIBLE TO FIND SLUMBER THAT EVENING. 
You try. 
The handmaidens bathe you; you ask them quietly of their childhoods, dazy and staring over the rim of the bath, watching the swirls of heat escape the milky water. They tell you of their homes, families, parents, brothers, sisters, lovers. When you ask them to continue, they whisper of the smallfolk on the island, sharing laughter and gossip. Usually, you indulge them in the more lively stories - ask more of the people, question whether any of them have taken a husband; they are unlike your old handmaids in the Red Keep, who whispered only when you were not there, more oft than not to your own mother. 
Here, they are kind, quiet. They are just girls. 
Tonight, you cannot help but wish you were one of them. 
A foolish, senseless thing to say - you, indeed, have had a better life than any of the smallfolk, a truth which has always rubbed the wrong way as velvet on cracked skin; you sigh nonetheless and move silently as they dress you for slumber. 
You ask them of their lovers - few of them have one, but they flush and giggle and whisper their names; you, ecstatic for them but confined in your little cage of gold, smiling wistfully and yearning. To love who you could, to marry who you could. 
“Princess,” One of them asks as she prepares your hair for sleep, “Is it true, you can see the entire world on dragonback?” 
A sweet question, one that would usually make you grin. Yet the words stirred a deep melancholy in you and all you could do is murmur a small affirmation. 
The memories come in the dark. 
As you lie restless in your bed, tossing every moment, your desire for Jacaerys consumes you. 
Breath, hot and willing, against the skin of your neck. Fingers, nimble and intent, sliding up your thigh, dragging the skirt of your dress. A groan, melting into your mouth as your lips find his. 
Sinner, your mother’s voice in your head. You sin. 
One candle, faint and flickering as it weeps white wax, mocks you in the corner of your room. You tire of counting the cracks in the stone of the ceiling; turning, the empty space of your mattress is cold and uninviting.
You were not cold when you were warming the sheets of Jacaerys Velaryon last evening. 
Writhing in pleasure in his room, the hearth still drawn and hot, his sharp jaw against your thighs as he mouthed over you. A small grin, face between your legs, fingers reaching the most secret part of you. 
Gods. 
You try to ignore the ache, the desire; but when the witching hour is far gone, you drop your bare toes onto the stone floor with a sigh. 
Just to see him, you tell yourself. There is no ache so insatiable that you cannot ignore it for the evening. For the rest of your life, your mind chides, he is not yours to have. 
Just to see him, you promise yourself. You tug over a robe; it is red, it drips off you like blood. Just to see him. 
When you open the doors to your chamber, mouth opening to instruct your guards to allow you to leave, you stop short. 
The hallway is not empty.
His tunic tousled and lips puffy as if he could not sleep - in the midnight hours, his hair is a black mass, his eyes sharp and dark. It is an honest Jacaerys in front of you with his eyes wide, insistent: no uniform, nor sword, nor duties, nor titles; clad in a tunic and trousers. Simply Jace. 
"-I must speak with you.” His voice is near desperate. 
You take a sharp breath, eyes falling aside to the guards who stay vigil at your doors. “Leave us.” You command; the guards move to stand sentinel in the hallway, giving you a moment of privacy with the prince.
 You close the door behind Jacaerys after he enters your chambers, the sound echoing in the quiet room. You light several of the candles near your resting table, smoothing over your nightgown as it dawns on you how inappropriately you are dressed to hold company of your Prince.
He remains, standing ever-respectful, eyes roving over your personal belongings, scarce as they may be as you fled the Keep those weeks ago. Seashells along the windows; flowers, picked by you and Baela the other day before breaking fast. A needlepoint hangs beside your bed - the web of a spider and a small butterfly, the wings singed at the ends as it flies away from a dragon - A gift from your younger sister for your last nameday. Mere days before you escaped. 
When your eyes meet his finally, your hands wringing together, you whisper to him. “Jace.” 
"I can't bear this," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper; his eyes are sharp, near pain. Your teeth clench; a fire burning in your stomach, desire coiling once again. 
“Jacaerys,” You repeat, eyes fluttering, unable to stop yourself as you take steps towards him, feeling his warmth as he steps to close the gap. 
"Think of it,” He begs, “You, sister of the Usurper; I, the son of the Queen.”
Your brows, furrowed as they were before, begin to untangle at the realization of his words, his intention. Heat douses you, stomach flipping. 
“-To show them where your loyalties lie. It would unite our cause with a single banner.” He adds, shaking his head as he takes yet another step towards you. The smell of him; it catches upon your nose and you inhale, stuttering as you swallow thick cotton down your throat. You can imagine the horror on your mother’s face when the news came to King’s Landing; you, married to him. 
“As we were meant to.” You nearly whimper it - and it is true; you indeed spent childhood with Septas and Maesters, sitting under tutelage and furiously studying for your future roles. To rule one day; Prince and Princess of Dragonstone, King and Queen of the Seven Realms. What could have been, may still be. He is right; too many things have been lost to time and circumstance. 
There is a delicious, angry possessiveness that takes over you, burning in your abdomen, sliding through your stomach, infiltrating your lungs as you stare at the man before you. You were promised to each other. 
Jacaerys's eyes are dark, intense, and filled with a longing that mirrors your own. He steps closer until there's barely any space between you, his breath warm on your face. "Please,” His lips brush your own, “Do not make me beg for you.” 
You curb your gasp, legs nearly weak as he huffs against your lips, “-Because I will. Until my last breath,” He insists, and you press up onto your toes, lips grazing his own, “You mustn’t.” You soothe. Fingers find purchase on your waist as he lets out a shaky breath. 
 "I crave you,” He confesses, his voice trembling, “To have, as a husband may have his wife."
Your heart races, the heat of his words igniting something deep within you. It is all you can do to lay your hands on his chest; his heart, beating strong and true beneath your fingers that tremble with desire. Your lips brush his cheek as you pull him to you; down, bending his neck so your lips can meet flush with his ear. 
 “Pār emagon nyke, valzȳrys.” You whisper into his ear, biting at the soft skin of his lobe. Then have me, husband.
A deep growl; fingers flexing around your hips before gripping tight, Jace groans into you, face burying in your neck as you kiss along his jaw. He is far too impatient for such teasing; his lips find yours with a heat you’ve never felt - soft lips with urgent fervor, pulling and tugging and giving, taking, giving, taking. 
You are delirious with the scent of him in your own chambers, the curls that wind themselves through your fingers when you tug him by the nape of his neck. He tastes of peppermint tea; he nips at your lips like a balm to a cut as you sigh his name. 
You take a gasp as his lips travel; they roam your neck, first - teeth sharp when he leaves a bite against your pulse, as if reminding himself of your humanity. Hands, still trembling, slide around until he drags a palm up your stomach; cascades of arousal follow in his wake, your skin perking at such light touch. 
His grasp finds your breast; you both stutter an inhale. Your sleeping gown is thin enough - your nipples, pert and aching with need, are pinched gently as he explores you, leaning back with attentive eyes as if to see what you like.  
But he cannot resist; your head tips back, hair cascading down your back as his lips follow his hands - over the hemline of your dress, his lips press the plush skin of your breasts, his breath hot against your skin. 
You swallow your heartbeat, gasping sharply as he suddenly grabs your arse. “gaomagon daor henujagon ēnka, mandia trēsy,” You moan as his hand squeezes you, lifting until you’re coaxed on to the tips of your toes. Do not leave marks, nephew.
 He groans against your skin, lips just barely pulling away from your heaving chest; a pinch of your pert nipple has you biting back a moan as you ache for him. He shakes his head, mouth brushing over your skin as he whispers lowly, “Kesan tepagon ñuha ābrazȳrys hae nyke jaelagon.” Shivers rove over you as you pull his hair; desire too much for you as you crash your lips once more with his own. I will mark my wife as I wish. 
He moans a sweet thing; one you wish to hear every day for the rest of your breaths. With desiring hands, he pulls you until the lines of your bodies are flush, stumbling as he begins to take staggering, heady steps broken by kisses. You stumble backwards, unwilling to let him go as his hungry palms slide up your spine. “I need you,” You whisper, “I must have you, Jace, please.” You beg yourself, eyes finding his own with a spark; his hands, warm, curl over your shoulders just as they did the back of the chair yesterday. 
And then a light nudge until you fall to the seat with a gasp. 
Your hands slide out of his grasp as you slide into the chair; he bends his neck to watch you in the candlelight. Tall, standing above you - your hands tug at his tunic, unable to voice your desire but staring up into those dark eyes, pleading. 
A smirk in the faint light; flickered flamelight against his dimpled cheeks as a slender hand cups your jaw, thumb gracing your cheek. You thrum with desire. “I have not ceased to think about you,” Jace rumbles, “And how you taste against my tongue.” 
You let out a gasp as he once again brings himself to his knees - his face, right in front of you. Breath hitting his lips, you hum, “I have not ceased to think about it either,” You admit. 
A smile, eyes teasing:  "And here I was, believing I was the only one losing sleep over it," he murmurs. You smirk, near a retort until his strong hands grasp your legs, tugging you towards the edge of your chair; a yelp as he begins, then, to drag your thin gown up your thighs. Toes curling in anticipation, you let out a shaky breath. 
He lets out a deep groan as you are once again exposed to him; eyes flickering up to you before returning to your glistening cunt. A thumb, curious and feather-light, swipes up your center, collecting your arousal and sending you jolting. He hums lowly as his hand raises; in the low light of the chambers, your desire glints on his thumb and you flush, watching him with a gasp as he brings the digit towards your lips. 
Your tongue swirls around his finger - a moan at the sweet, earthy taste of yourself with him. He presses curiously against your pliant tongue, eyes fixated on your glossy lips. “Please,” You gasp when he pulls his thumb away, sinking lower to pull your thighs over his shoulders once more. 
He gives you no more than a caress on your inner thigh before his tongue delves into your soft folds; eager, impatient to taste you.
A gasp that tapers into a low whine escapes your lips as his find your pearl, tongue swirling and hands holding you to the chair. 
It is all you can do to prevent the swear words from tumbling from you; his low hum at the taste of you sends tremors of pleasure through your body. Your hands find their home once again in his hair, clenching against his curls as you gasp. 
“Jace,” You whisper breathlessly, “D-don’t stop-” 
You are full of pleasure; his tongue moves lower, nose pressing against your sensitive nub as his tongue slides into your entrance. A moan of his name, your back arches as he moves; pulling you impossibly close by his arms, your eyes fall shut in bliss. 
You begin to near your high incredibly soon; eager, your prince does not cease - teasing, groaning, whispering broken phrases in High Valyrian into you. 
A few moments until your head is thrown back over the top of the chair; gasping with stutters, you whimper as a hand once again finds your breast, squeezing and pinching as his tongue continues to drive you towards the edge. 
Your chest stutters, littered with love bites and marks - nearing the edge of bliss quick, your legs clench around his head. Groaning into your center, he pulls you tighter, tongue swirling over your pearl as he drags one hand, slow and wanton, to your cunt.
There is a moment where the waves crash in tandem with your shudders; as if you and the ocean are one, Jacaerys taming your storm with a groan and hands splayed over your hips. Soon a finger slides, teasing your entrance; your spine bends as you let out a gasp, shifting to stare down at him.  
“Jace, I’d-” You gasp, “I’d like to-to feel you.” 
He hums softly against your folds, sending shivers over your chest. “You do not feel me now, Sodjisto?” 
You flush, your breaths ragged as he resumes, slipping his middle and ring finger within you - the stretch makes you groan, desire dripping from his glance as he watches you. A lifted brow, some cocky glance of pride from the prince - You nearly smack atop his curls for the look, but you’re near writhing, the wood of your chair creaking, his hum a low grumble that sends sensations through you. 
He knows what you’d meant - but as he begins to work a rhythm against you with his fingers, sweat beading at the skin of your chest, he does not seem keen to stop. “I am close,” It comes out as a gasp, eyes rolling back momentarily as some fire strikes in your abdomen. He gives no response yet continues to curl his fingers, exploring you, tongue swirling around your sensitive spot and pulling you closer and closer to release. 
His name is the sole thing which passes your lips when you hit your pleasure; shaking legs, your fingers tug hard enough on his hair to elicit his own moan. He watches you, chin tilted up as he slows his fingers, riding you through your ecstasy as you release his curls. 
“Gods,” He whispers, eyes searching yours as you catch your breath. Your legs slide off his shoulders; he, with a deft hand, catches an ankle and presses a chaste kiss before lowering. The grin you share is shockingly bashful, for the misbehavior you’ve just found yourselves in once more.
You sit up slowly, heart pounding as you grab his face, pressing a heated kiss to his lips. You taste your essence, rising gently as he does, your hands rising to his tunic.
A fervor you’d not known you possess takes you - tugging him harshly, he grunts your name as he stumbles with you, hands falling to your hips. A smile in the candlelight, a soft chuckle as he tilts his head, “You’re quite eager,” He mutters lowly, lips catching your jaw. You tilt your neck, humming as your hands begin their descent, trembling with desire and the unknown. 
You hum - indeed, you’re eager. Your fingers graze the waist of his trousers before he pulls back, staring at you, “My love,” He whispers; it sends warmth through your veins, heart rushing with affection. 
You shrug, “Might I return the favor, nephew?” You ask, schooling your face as innocently as possible, though you yearn to climb atop him this very moment. He is once again red, swallowing thickly, his eyes widening slightly. “You... you don’t need to,” he stammers, trying to maintain his composure as you bite your lip, “We shouldn’t—”
You place a finger on his lips, silencing his protest; they press against your hand in a silent kiss as you shake your head, “Jace, please,” you whisper, your voice soft and enticing. “It is all I can think of, even this morning, at the table-” 
He coughs, eyes widening in desire before he grasps your cheeks tight, pressing his lips to yours. He pulls away, with eyes darkened. “You drive me mad,” he confesses, his voice trembling.
You smile, your heart pounding in your chest. “You’ve said as much before,” you whisper, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. His eyes have left yours to trail over the marks that litter your chest; a possession that flickers within his gaze. 
You grasp his jaw tighter - tugging him until he looks at you with a small smirk, “Do not make me beg for you, Jacaerys.”
His eyes nearly roll as he registers his own words used against him; “I wouldn’t say no to you,” he breathes, his lips brushing against your neck, "Never." You shiver at his touch, a thrill running through you. “Good,” you reply, your voice low and urgent. “Because I cannot wait any longer.”
You tilt his head up, your lips meeting his in a searing kiss that he returns with equal fervor, his hands roaming your body as if trying to memorize every curve, each contour.
Breaking the kiss, you look into his eyes, your own filled with determination. “Lie back,” you instruct softly, guiding him down towards your bed as he’d done to you just last night. His brows raise slightly and you kiss the freckle above his cupid’s bow.  “Let me take care of you.” You whisper against his lips. 
He obeys, his gaze never leaving yours, filled with a mix of anticipation and need. As you straddle him, you feel his hands on your hips, steadying you.
Upon his elbows, his eyes watch as you unlace his trousers - his arousal hard and lying just above where you straddle him, you feel a deep ache to fill yourself with him. His hand slides up your hip, dragging your nightdress upwards in the action, until his thumb graces below your breast. “Beautiful,” He whispers, eyes true. You smile, tugging his tunic until he leans forward; you pull the fabric from his frame, eager to feel his warm skin against your own. 
When his chest is bare, you splay your hands over him; pale skin, glowing with the hue of night, planes of muscle and lithe hips. A shiver of desire - a hunger more possessive than you’ve ever known. You trace the lines of his body, marveling at the strength and grace he possesses.
“My Prince,” you murmur, your voice filled with awe and affection. “You are… exceedingly handsome.”
It takes no longer that the blush rises to his cheeks than you’ve found your way to crawl between his thighs, releasing him from his trousers; his cock, hard and weeping of precum. An exhale from his full lips as your hand grazes him - lying long against his lower stomach, you run your fingers over the base of him, watching as his hands grasp your bedsheets. Perhaps, you hope, your sheets will smell of him on the morrow. 
You’ve touched men before; in the days of boredom, in the shadow of your family, sneaking off behind walls or hiding in the Keep. Yet none of them, like this - none of them, how you want to touch Jace. 
“Jacaerys, what you did…” Your eyes flicker to the chair, “kissing me, there…” You sound foolish - but his eyes are wide, always listening. “I want to do that, too.” You say earnestly.
At your words his head falls back on the pillow. “Gods be damned,” He mutters to himself, a hand pushing his curls back from his face as you lower yourself, spitting gently - a string of saliva, falling onto the head of his cock, your eyes wide at the deep scent of his bath oils and him. 
You grasp him in your palm - thicker than you’ve known, and it makes you ache in an indescribable way as you slowly move your wrist, staring up at him. “Fuck,” He whispers, biting his lower lip and sitting up slightly, “My L-” 
Whatever he planned to say is forgotten; flown from his brain the moment you wrap your lips around his warm cock, tasting the beads that leak from him. Jacaerys lets out a moan so lustrous it makes you keen yourself - spurred on by his reaction, you suckle, sliding your tongue lower, to meet where your palm moves up his cock and back down. 
“G-Gods-” He stutters, a hand threading through your own hair, guiding you quite gently as you begin to bob your head with the motions of your palm. He is heavy against your throat, thick - large, you cannot fit him all but you try as he lets out a short gasp, tucking a strand of hair from your eyes. 
It is only a few more moments before you become more confident; the man beneath you writhes with restraint, one hand fisting the sheets and the other tangled in your hair, guiding you upon his length. 
Your desire for him aches - to see him in his own state of bliss, as he has so unfairly seen you in twice by now. You breathe through your nostrils, slowing your fist and taking him deeper into your throat, relishing in the gasping grunt you pull from his flustered lips.
It is nearly too much - you gag slightly, moaning at the feeling as you feel your own arousal drip onto the mattress below you. His own hand tightens in your hair; he is holding back, you think. 
“Love,” He mutters, voice sewn with heady desire. You do not listen to his call, instead bobbing your head, feeling him tighten, knowing he too is close to the bliss you just felt minutes ago. “L-laesi,” He stutters, using the incorrect word, eyes. You continue moving upon his cock until he hisses, tugging your hair gently, “Jurnegon rȳ nyke.” He commands, voice full of pleasure with a steel edge to it. Look at me.
You do. 
Eyes full of lust, the muscles of his abdomen tight with desire, sweat upon his chest. You nearly lose your mind in his beauty for a moment, before he groans, “Where- I’m close.” He is unable to speak full sentences; a part of you rings with pride, the same pride he likely feels reducing you to such a similar state. “Where shall I-” 
You hum, pulling your lips from his cock and replacing your movements with your hand, tilting your head, “I told you,” you say, “I’d like to taste you, My Prince.” 
His head throws back at this, muttering a string of swears and High Valyrian - and when he hits his own high, you slow your movements, lips wrapped back around his head, stroking his pulsing cock as he lets out a groan. He comes inside your mouth, his seed coating your tongue as you moan. He is warm, salty; Kin of the Sea, after all. 
You collapse against his clothed thigh once he is through his clouded bliss, breathing heavy. Your throat has begun to ache; with shaky legs, you crawl up to where Jace tugs you, his eyes warm and spilling with honey. 
You were once told by a handmaid that men often fall asleep after such release; Jacaerys seems none more keen to stay awake, his hands sliding over your figure, eyes stuck on your frame. It sets a fire back within you as he hums, hand sliding over where your dress rides up, grasping your arse once again. You let out a choked moan, eyes finding him with heat, “Jacaerys?” You ask, voice hoarse, quiet. 
His brows furrow only slightly; you kiss the wrinkle away gently. “I want you to take my maidenhood,” You whisper, cheeks hot as your lips brush his forehead. His swallow is thick, the desire coursing through your veins as his hand trails your spine delicately - His eyes darken with desire, lips falling to nip gently at your throat, “You mustn’t say these things when I have you in bed.” He nearly growls against your skin. 
You hum, hands sliding over his naked torso, traveling the contours and planes. “I mean it.” You whisper - he groans your name, head falling back - but there is a flicker of something else; resolve. 
“We must wait,” he says softly but firmly, his hands gently but insistently pushing you back. You let him, knowing he is right but wishing for once you could ignore such obligations. “-Until we are married. For your honor, and…” His eyes fall away from yours and you must duck your own to keep sight of him, “...and for ours.” He adds quietly, thumb stroking your hip. 
And there, in the soft candlelight, your heart strikes; You can see the internal struggle in his eyes, the memories of whispered accusations and doubts about his own parentage surfacing. He has lived a life of whispers, many of your own family’s doing - one he does not wish upon another.
Your heart aching with him, you nod, hand cupping his cheek, “Jace,” you say gently, “You are the very embodiment of duty - and an honor to your lineage.” He looks away, but your hold on his jaw remains as you kiss his temple, “We will wait.” You agree softly. 
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“I WISH YOU COULD STAY,” YOU WHISPER. 
Jace presses a kiss to your forehead, pulling his tunic back on as you hover by the doors. 
His eyes soften as he takes in your frame,  “I’ll speak to my mother in the morrow.” He says gently, nodding, "And we can make arrangements for our betrothal."
You hide a grin with a ducked head, feeling giddy like the child you were the first time you were promised to each other.
When you open your chamber door to bid him farewell, you are once more met with a shock; Ser Marbrand stands, about to knock on your quarter doors.
You must mirror his own look of surprise; you at him, he at the sight of you and Jacaerys together. Your own throat runs dry, blood rushing from your face as you clear your throat, knowing how very indecent it all must look. 
“Princess…" He greets, eyes flicking from you to Jace, "Prince.” His eyes flick then to the guards standing vigil outside your door; A brief moment of tension, palpable in the air, before he clears his throat and speaks firmly, "Apologies for the disruption. There's an urgent matter - An incoming ship has been sighted in Dragonstone bay, wishing to hold court with our Queen."
Your mouth opens in shock - the middle of the night? You share a sharp look with Jace - Your letter. You open your mouth to speak, but Jacaerys takes a step forward, “How many ships? Who leads them?” he asks sharply, his mind already calculating the implications. You turn to gather your robe as Jace asks once more, “Where is my mother?” 
“In the council’s chambers. You have both been requested.” Ser Marbrand meets Jace's gaze evenly, "A single ship, my Prince - bearing a green, three-headed dragon.”
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requests open.
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luvsfics · 6 months ago
Text
GETTING CAUGHT — jacaerys velaryon x twin!reader
[ incest, sex content, unprotected sex, mentions of arranged marriages ]
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The sounds of panting and skin slapping together filled the prince’s rooms. The light of the fire reflected off their sweat glistened bodies as they were consumed with each other.
“Fuck-“ he gasped as he ducked his head into the crook of her neck, holding onto her hips for dear life as she rode him with such determination.
Her fingers laced themselves into his dark curls, tugging onto them lightly as she moaned into his hair.
“Jace- gods!” She groaned, removing herself from his hair and holding his face into her hands, pressing their foreheads together.
She pressed delicate kisses onto his lips. Something so innocent during an act as erotic as this. Their love for each other flowed through the room.
“My love..” He whispered against her soft lips, to which she smiled. His cock throbbed inside of her, earning himself a moan from his sweet sister.
He began kissing down her neck, his lips hot against her skin. Her reached her chest, and then her nipples. She moaned as his wet mouth engulfed her breast, her hands finding their way back to his curls.
“You are mine- we were made for each other..” she breathed into his ear, a smile plastered onto her face as she began to reach her high, the pleasure consuming them both.
That was before his chamber door opened, halting them both in their tracks. Both of their heads whip towards the door to see their step-father, daemon smirking at the two.
“It’s not what-“ Jace started before daemon stoped him, “don’t think of me as a fool, boy.” He laughed.
“Carry on,” he said before shutting the door. His laughter was heard down the halls of the castle.
Jace’s head nestled into her chest, she caressed his head as their hearts raced. The embarrassment of getting caught running through their veins.
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“Your daughter is of age to be wed, my queen. Perhaps we should begin finding her a match.” One of the council men said around the table, the queen silently agreeing.
“Jace is always a good option.” Daemon suggested with a smirk.
“Jace? Her twin? There are several good candidates from good houses that-“ another began, but the queen looked towards her husband, urging him to go on.
“We should betroth them, they’d be the next Alysanne and Jahaerys. Perhaps, even Aegon and Rhaenys.” Daemon said.
“What of his betrothal to Baela?” Rhaenyra asked.
“Aegon had two wives, Rhaenys and Visenya.” He smiled.
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