#lucerys ii velaryon

[thevelaryons]

SEAWHORES

A certain interesting detail when it comes to Velaryon men is that many of them are noted to be sexually promiscuous, or so the histories claim.

CORLYS

He is described as carrying on a secret affair for several years:

In his Testimony, the fool puts forth the notion that “the little mice” had been sired not by the Sea Snake’s son, but by the Sea Snake himself. Lord Corlys did not share Ser Laenor’s erotic predispositions, he points out, and the Hull shipyards were like unto a second home to him, whereas his son visited them less frequently. Princess Rhaenys, his wife, had the fiery temperament of many Targaryens, Mushroom says, and would not have taken kindly to her lord husband fathering bastards on a girl half her age, and a shipwright’s daughter besides. Therefore his lordship had prudently ended his “shipyard trysts” with Mouse after Alyn’s birth, commanding her to keep her boys far from court.

— Fire & Blood, The Dying of the Dragons

LAENOR

Regarding Laenor, it's worth mentioning that he had a harem (though Joffrey Lonmouth was clearly the most favoured one out of the pretty boys whose company Laenor enjoyed):

Laenor Velaryon was now nineteen years of age, yet had never shown any interest in women. Instead he surrounded himself with handsome squires of his own age, and was said to prefer their company.

— Fire & Blood, Heirs of the Dragon

Then there is Laenor's confrontation with his lover turned killer, Qarl Correy. Laenor was said to be courting someone else behind Qarl's back. According to the eye witness accounts from Spicetown, Qarl was seen angrily arguing with Laenor before their confrontation turned violent:

Septon Eustace provides us with the killer’s name and declares jealousy the motive for the slaying; Laenor Velaryon had grown weary of Ser Qarl’s companionship and had grown enamored of a new favorite, a handsome young squire of six-and-ten.

— Fire & Blood, Heirs of the Dragon

JACAERYS

Rumour has it Jace had an affair during his trip to Winterfell. Whether it's true or false though is open to debate:

His account introduces a young maiden, or “wolf girl” as he dubs her, with the name of Sara Snow. So smitten was Prince Jacaerys with this creature, a bastard daughter of the late Lord Rickon Stark, that he lay with her of a night.

— Fire & Blood, The Dying of the Dragons

That's not the only rumour surrounding Jace. His trip to the Vale also circulated rumours concerning Jeyne Arryn:

Mushroom tells us that this famous maiden was in truth a highborn harlot with a voracious appetite for men, and gives us a salacious tale of how she offered Prince Jacaerys the allegiance of the Vale only if he could bring her to her climax with his tongue.

— Fire & Blood, The Dying of the Dragons

ALYN

Speaking of rumours, Alyn certainly has his share of them:

Lord Alyn required fresh water and provisions for his ships, whilst Princess Aliandra required services of a more intimate nature. Bastard Born would have us believe that he provided them, Hard as Oak that he did not.

— Fire & Blood, Under the Regents

When he did, the “Queen” was so delighted with him that he sent two of his wives to Oakenfist’s bedchamber that night. “Give them sons,” Racallio commanded. “I want sons as brave and strong as you.” Our sources are at odds as to whether or not Lord Alyn did as he was bid.

— Fire & Blood, Under the Regents

A woman known only as Rue, who may or may not have been a septa, and may or may not have become one of his lordship’s paramours.

— Fire & Blood, Under the Regents

“She was the fairest treasure of the Maidenvault. Lord Oakenfist the great admiral lost his heart to her, though he was married to another.”

— A Feast for Crows, Jaime I

LUCERYS (the Admiral)

Although we don't get any direct quote about his private affairs, it seems to be implied that Aurane is his bastard son alongside his trueborn son, Monford. Well Lucerys can't have pulled that bastard out of a bed of kelp. Clearly he fucks too.

[unusual-raccoon]

cut me to ribbons | by Unusual_Raccoon (Lucerys II x Aerys II)

for @halibalism - hope you enjoy 🤍

Warnings: Canon Compliant, Minor Aerys II Targaryen/Rhaella Targaryen (Wife of Aerys II), Cousin Incest, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-Con, Dubious Consent, Painful Sex, Anal Sex, No Lube, Blood as Lube, Pining, Be Careful What You Wish For, Possibly Unrequited Love, Biting, Scratching, Vaginal Fingering, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Intersex Velaryons, Velaryon Traditions, Targaryen Madness, Sexual Dysfunction, Sadism, Valyrian Culture & Customs (A Song of Ice and Fire), Marital Rape, Abuse

Summary: Lucerys II Velaryon, Master of Ships and Lord of Driftmark, makes a deal with his beloved cousin, the Mad King, after making a discovery about the queen.

WC: 4K+ Ao3 Link

Lucerys is not sure if he had seen them before, turned a blind eye as many no doubt had. But it is unavoidable now, standing in the doorway of his cousin’s chambers.

A purpling bruise upon her cheek, poorly hidden beneath a fine film of heavily applied powder.

There is another upon the delicate curve of her neck. They are bite marks, he realizes belatedly with a shiver; a mere stamp of ownership left by another.

Nausea roils in his gut. His grip tightening around the carved wooden dragon young Viserys had abandoned in the hall. A delicately whittled wing whines like it may snap.

“Cousin?” He calls gently, mindful of the way the queen, Rhaella, jumps - the mournful violet of her downturned eyes blink shamefully at him.

“Are you well?” He asks, it is a stupid question, to which she offers a timid, watery smile.

“Yes, yes, of course-“ her veneer of calm is but a gossamer thing. He sees through it without trying. He notes the tiny pearls of unshed tears that gather in her mournful violet eyes - dark as a bruise.

The culprit is not difficult to discern, as he knows, there is only one man able to inflict such horrors on the queen of seven kingdoms without reproach…

He presses the child’s toy into her small, trembling hands, steadies her with a few fingers curved about her elbow. Her chin shakes and he mourns. He mourns for the stranger he sees before him. His cousin is eight years his senior, he and Rhaella had never been alarmingly close in their youth, no, Lucerys had always been enamored with Aerys, her elder brother - he grits his teeth to stem the tide of fondness that threatens to sweep away the horror of the present.

“I will speak with him.”

Rhaella’s head jumps up. A tear splits down her powered cheek. She shakes her head. A white-gold curl bounces against her temple.

“Oh, you needn’t trouble yourself, Lucerys-“

“Rhaella,” he said firmly, unperturbed. His thumb worried in circles along the intricate brocade of her sleeve upon her elbow.

She feels fragile beneath his touch, though they are of a similar, unassuming stature.

“I will speak with him.”

“Your Grace- forgive me,” a nursemaid gawps in the doorway; a touch scandalized with a man in the queen’s chambers, in such an…intimate position. Little Viserys stands by his nursemaid’s side.

“My lord,” she greets Lucerys with a deferential bow of her covered head. A faint hue lingers upon the girl’s cheeks.

“Your Grace, would you like us to return at a later time?”

“I was just leaving,” Lucerys replies brusquely. He pauses in the doorway to ruffle Viserys’ hair, as he used to with Monford. The boy emits a sound between a laugh and shriek, bolting to hide behind his mother’s skirts with a grin.

And despite himself, it brings a short lived smile to Lucerys’ lips.

He straightens himself in the walk through the keep’s long corridors, back held straight and shoulders squared, sword swinging at his side, arms clasped behind his back.

He finds the Lord Commander of the kingsguard, Ser Gerold Hightower, posted before the king’s chambers.

“Lord Admiral,” the knight greets with a bow of his head.

“Lord Commander,” Lucerys replies in turn, catching the leer of dark eyes that study him intently.

“I require an audience with the king,” he adds.

The tall knight nods.

“Your Master of Ships, your Grace.” Ser Hightower calls in a deep voice.

There is muffled conversation that drips through the scant gap in the doorway. His king is not alone.

A ragged voice bids him entry.

Where Aerys is typically fussed over by young maesters under Pycelle that endlessly apply salves to wounds left by his throne, he is instead locked in grumbling conversation with his Hand: Tywin Lannister.

“Lord Tywin.” Lucerys begins, his curls pale and buoyant as seafoam bob into his vision with a bow for the king, “Your Grace.”

“Lucerys,” the king says, sounding for all ears, utterly exasperated with his foremost advisor.

“I was hoping I might have a word with you, your Grace.”

The king waves a beckoning hand, with long, sharp nails. Tywin’s perceptive green-gold eyes watch him too keenly.

Lucerys’ gaze flits pointedly between the king and his Hand.

“…privately, your Grace.”

His cousin’s violet eyes narrow in a predatory fashion, before he shoos Lord Tywin from his chambers with a dismissive wave.

“The man vies for my throne.” The king snits with a curl of his nose when they are alone. He blows a sigh and turns his attention to Lucerys. Pointed nails clicking against the wooden arm of his chair in a quickening tempo.

“Cousin,” he drawls, “what is it you wish to speak of?”

Lucerys does not falter when he answers.

“Rhaella.”

His cousin barks out a laugh, yet his vexation shines clearly through his eyes and the trembling turn of his dry lips.

“What about her?” 

“Is my wife, my queen, of some concern to you, cousin?”

“Aerys,” Lucerys says with a wince.

“Have you fallen for her, Lucerys? Has she tried to seduce you, my poor wife? Hm, shall I have the faith chastise her for her adulterous behavior, the slattern! Speak now, so we might rectify the issue-“

“Aerys, enough! You know as well as I that Rhaella would never act against you.”

Nor would I, he thinks, but bites his tongue in that regard.

Most men have enough sense to tread lightly around their king, their mad king. At twenty and six, a lord for thirteen of those years, and a Master of Ships and Lord Admiral for 10 - Lucerys is not most. For as much as he loves his cousin - too much at times - he refuses to fear him even as fire flashes in Aerys’ crazed eyes. For if Aerys is fire, he is the sea.

“She is my cousin, just as you are - my blood, and it pains me to see her suffering so.”

Aerys’ lip lifts in a shaking sneer. His rage boils to the surface. He rises from his seat, robes hanging shapeless around his body, gaunt in ways he had not been in his youth; gallant and beautiful. He bears long ragged nails and lank white-gold hair and an unkempt beard. His teeth are chipped and nose crooked, lasting memories of the treason at Duskendale. He hardly resembles the man Lucerys had admired as a boy; the man he loved…the man he still loves.

“If you are so concerned for the treatment of my dear wife, perhaps you should like to take her place…to spare her my affections.”

Lucerys recoils instantly. His face flushes warm at the mere mention. The mockery stings, but he refuses to be shaken by it, nor the traitorous heat that builds in his belly - it is a silly, burgeoning thing.

“You…flatter me, your grace.” He says with painstaking poise.

“It is not my intention to flatter you, boy.”

Boy, Lucerys thinks, jaw tense. Aerys would always be 10 years his senior, older, wiser - to him, Lucerys would always be a boy, a frivolous little creature only fit for entertaining him…and warming his bed, so it seemed. If it meant sparing Rhaella his indecency…

“And if I were to agree, your grace? To be there to…cool your fire in the queen’s place…you would leave her be?”

Heat flashes in the king’s violet eyes.

His blood crawls through him with a chill. Lucerys wets his lips with his tongue.

“If you were to agree, I would have you here and now, to ensure you are an…adequate replacement.”

Lucerys lets out a soft laugh, “I am a Velaryon, cousin, we possess far too much pride to be simply adequate,” he lowers his voice, “and it is well known that I’ve always been your favorite cousin.”

The call of their blood was too potent to ignore.

Aerys flashes an irate smile, “Steffon’s my favorite cousin,” he says pointedly in a way that is meant to wound, Lucerys only offers a coy crinkle of his nose, “Strip.”

He obeys.

He removes his sword belt slowly, before placing it aside. He plucks rings from his fingers, the largest a gift from his wife, beset with a smooth chunk of glassy green Serpentine.

His Manderly woman. He kisses the stone once before moving onto his waistcoat. He feels the king’s eyes upon him. Wrathful.

“Faster.” Aerys demands, seated once more in his chair. His pointed nails click against the arm of his chair in a gathering tempo. Faster. Faster. He pictures whorls of ballroom dancers as he unfastens the diagonal line of buttons upon his heavily embroidered waistcoat, with countless beads of aquamarine and silver.

He shrugs the garment away to be abandoned with the likes of his sword and jewels.

His linen tunic is a lightweight article, barely there, with fanciful ruffs at the wrists. It is cast aside easily.

He pauses at his trousers. He toes off the supple leather of his boots. Colorful silk knee socks adorned with spirals of teal thread are removed and folded carefully. His breeches are rather utilitarian and he does away with them unapologetically.

He is bare, save for his smallclothes. And a single teardrop pearl earring that hangs from his right ear. His symbol of office as Lord of the Tides… The Sea Snake’s Boon. Passed from lord to heir.

He rolls the small bit of bequeathed jewelry carefully between two fingers; more invaluable to House Velaryon than its amassed wealth. To remove it now…

He forces his smalls down his willowy legs instead.

Aerys’ expression darkens, the violet of his eyes lurid. He stands from his seat swiftly. 

Since Duskendale Aerys had never quite seemed as tall as Lucerys had recalled from childhood, yet in that moment, garbed in heavy bespoke robes, he is all Lucerys remembers and more.

Aerys shrugs away his robes, revealing pale, damaged skin. He is but a litany of half-healed wounds, cuts and sores from his throne. He is thin, too thin.

His arms shake as his crown is set aside, as though the weight of it is too much to bear.

“Get on the bed.” His cousin commands. The enormity of what he is subjecting himself dawns upon him, stripped bare. He feels the urge to weep, whether out of anguish nor joy, he cannot tell. Guilt is upon him instantly, and the burn of sickness lingers in his throat at the prospect of feeling joy for the very act that caused Rhaella such harm.

He loves his cousin, too much, at times.

He does as his king commands.

Lucerys lowers himself upon the duvet.

The large featherbed dips subtly beneath the addition of Aerys’ weight. 

Lucerys steels himself for whatever may come. He shivers as long, pointed nails trace up his flank. Skin tightening with a wave of gooseflesh. How long had he dreamt of being in his cousin’s bed…of being at his mercy.

Fingers idle over his nape, a fist wrenches a handful of white curls back, and his head with it. He chokes on a sound of shock. Battling the urge to fight back.

Heat trickles down his spine - blood, he realizes. Nicked by one of many long nails.

First blood, he thinks, head pressed unceremoniously into a mound of pillows.

His own breath sticks warm to his cheeks, soaking into the linens.

He huffs a soft sound into the goosedown. Insignificant. A hand gropes at the curve of his rear, mortification stings hot on his cheeks. The touch moves, unabashed.

His thighs are urged apart. Long hair tickles his back.

A hand presses tentatively, each caress drawing forth a sharp inhale at the prickle of pointed talons across bare flesh.

A knuckle brushes along his taint, pausing at the delicate folds of flesh, nestled away beneath his stones. There it was, the magic of House Velaryon. They were not born to ride dragons, no, they were born to mate…to breed…like their sigil. Every man of their lineage bore the same curiosity the king toyed with now. A quim.

In the eyes of the Westerosi, it made them more alien than their dragon-riding kin. Men capable of fathering sons and birthing them.

A nail grazes the tender flesh and Lucerys gasps. Hands clutching fistfuls of fine linens.

He hears his cousin laugh, it is a cruel thing.

A hand wrenches his head back once more, his spine aches, cool air stings the damp sweat upon his cheeks. A talon bearing a pearl of his own nectar, translucent and damning, is held for him to see through hazy eyes.

Lucerys is returned into the burrow of pillows once more; shamed.

Two hands knead at his rear.

Appraising.

A single palm retreats and he hears the friction of skin on skin.

He licks his teeth, mouth dry. He awaits the sting of a rough entry, but finds none. His toes tingle, vaguely numb.

He only hears the slap of skin on skin, the harsh pumps of a curled fist growing more and more frantic. He tilts his head slightly, white-gold fringe curling against the sweat on his forehead.

“Aer-”

His face is pressed into the pillows with a snarl. Air struggles to filter through the fabric.

Hands grope at him, angry in their ardor, pointed nails drawing welts upon his flesh.

He bites his tongue to smother a hiss.

His spine stiffens at the blunt press of a soft member between his legs.

The moments float by, both ephemeral and eternal in the smothered darkness of the pillows.

There is a drowsy almost pleasant sensation to be found with the weight of a warm body atop his.

Whatever veil of complacency formed, is torn away with a violent shock of pain that bursts over his bare shoulder. Chipped teeth dig into his skin. Blood bubbles up beneath unbroken flesh, throbbing.

A grunt is exhaled into the linens. Sweat erupts over his skin like he’s taken ill.

A warm mouth bites him again and again. Long white-gold hair tickles his shoulders.

He is trembling, back littered with bites, by the time Aerys is hard. The thick head of his cousin’s cock presses between his thighs, excited in the face of his pain; the size of it gives him pause.

A strangled sound wells in his throat as Aerys’ cock rubs against the damp seam of Lucerys’ quim. His toes curl.

The muscles in his back ache, pockmarked with blossoming bruises.

Aerys’ hands knead at his rear, spreading the flesh apart. Lucerys inhales, awaiting the first press of his manhood with a drooling slit.

The crimson tip of the king’s cock lingers against the soft flesh of his quim, indolent.

Long fingers and pointed nails scratch raised welts across his buttocks. The skin burns hot.

He feels Aerys’ weight shift slightly, the mattress sinking in new places where he moves. It sways beneath him like the sea.

A hand squeezes his plush rear. The tip of Aerys’ cock twitches.

Lucerys breathes in once more.

The mattress shifts and he is certain it will come. The fattened head slips forward and higher - abruptly the wrong hole is breached. He muffles his agony over a mouthful of pillows. His legs tremble violently.

The tip of Aerys’ cock is forced into his rear, the tight rim screams with red-hot pain. Lucerys claws at the bedding, feral.

The wet smell of iron coats the air, nausea burns in his throat.

Aerys’ hisses above him, clawed hands cling to his hips as he is made to accept more.

He is dizzy. Sweating. Bleeding.

He struggles to breathe, fists clutching weakly at the duvet.

The first thrust, the first true thrust, tears him open like a fisherman’s spear.

He hears his cousin growl, grip tightening upon Lucerys’ hips as he eases back, the broken flesh stinging.

He is fucked open, torn open, pointed nails slash wounds upon his hips and lower back.

His cousin’s thrusts are violent and his breathing harsh. He glides inside, eased by blood, like any king, destined to leave a mark where no man had been before.

The slick clap of their bodies builds into a quickening tempo. Faster. Faster.

Lucerys hiccups, desensitized to the pain, wriggling against the bedding as something worse sweeps over him.

Prickling, needle-like pleasure. Unbearable pleasure that builds in his ruined hole, down to his neglected one. Nectar and blood moisten his thighs.

His cock pulses, pinned stiff and uncomfortable against the bedding.

Aerys’ hips meet the curve of his buttocks loudly, wet skin on skin. He moans and tears prickle in his eyes.

When pain lances through him, it is a relief. A brief bubble of oxygen for a drowning man. He is violating me, Lucerys thinks, the salt of unshed tears remind him of the sea, oh, but it is him.

Aerys’ teeth sink into his shoulder, nails dyed crimson dig into his hip. His cock is large, too large as it plunges in deep. His puffy, abused rim clinging to it.

Warm, rapid breath rattles the small bit of jewelry that remains upon his person. A single teardrop pearl earring.

His cousin’s breath grows labored, monstrous.

Every harsh rock of his hips buries him further; Lucerys feels some shape of Aerys behind his ribs, battering away.

Aerys’ cock stabs in jarringly hard, bloody and pulsing and thick. His cousin shudders suddenly, stones tensing hot and full against Lucerys’ dripping, empty quim.

He reaches his peak with a ragged sound, roaring like long dead dragons while he empties his sac. Lucerys stills, motionless, hole fluttering as seed oozes from him. Dripping molten, tinged with blood, it scalds the backs of pale thighs.

He drinks in sips of air that squeeze in through the fabric of the duvet, lightheaded and terribly aroused.

His cock twitches once against his abdomen. And shame stings in his eyes.

He mewls a pathetic sound as the absence of his cousin’s cock brings with it a raw wave of sensation. Dewy, sex-scented air abrades his gaping hole, clenching around nothingness.

Aerys does nothing for a time, simply lingering wet skin to wet skin. He wipes his cock against the back of Lucerys’ thigh.

The featherbed shifts beneath him like the sea and he sways with the waves. He lifts his head slowly, cautious. Aerys sits amidst blood-stained bedding, rust-red manhood spent against his thigh.

When Lucerys looks upon him, eyes watering from the light, he doesn’t  see an aged king, haunted and gaunt, with lank strands of white-gold hair adhering to the sweat upon his face and neck in a lattice, like a spider’s web. Instead, he sees his cousin as he once was. Beautiful and noble, a lover of masked balls and music; the man that had made small council meetings an agony for Lucerys at six and ten, at any age in truth, the man he had chased about the tiltyard with a wooden sword as a child.

Lucerys swallows, throat aching.

“Will that be all, your grace?” He asks, beneath himself, like a servant might.

His cousin’s violet eyes blink, once, twice - Lucerys is certain one of said blinks was vertical. He licks his lips, finds frayed skin and dried blood.

“Yes.” 

He struggles to climb from the bed, weak-kneed and dizzy.

Lucerys nods. Teardrop pearl bouncing.

He staggers to his feets, anticipating mockery, yet Aerys says nothing. Does nothing.

Lucerys redresses, his socks and smalls, trousers and tunic, waistcoat and jewelry. He struggles briefly with his boots, but takes some measure of pride in being able to see the task through himself; fucked open like a gored animal.

His sword he saves for last. He runs a reverent finger over the ivory sculpted horse head pommel, with slivers of aquamarine for the eyes.

He binds the leather of his sword belt around his narrow waist with practiced hands. He straightens the heavy Serpentine ring upon his finger.

Though it had never been removed, he pinches briefly at the Sea Snake’s Boon that dangles from his right ear. It gives him resolve.

His cousin’s eyes linger upon him, unwavering.

He lowers his head in a brief show of deference and a softly muttered, ‘your grace’.

Lucerys steps into the halls of the Red Keep once more, as though nothing had happened.

“Lord Admiral,” A deep voice intones, and Lucerys nearly flinches. Ser Gerold Hightower stands guard beside the king’s chambers just as he had earlier. Dark eyes studying him intently.

“Lord Commander,” Lucerys replies as he walks through the hall with a stuttering gait.

He arrives to his own chambers, body aching and sore; mangled beneath the finery of his clothes.

He calls for a servant to have a bath drawn.

When the clawfoot tub is prepared, a handmaid dithers about in his shadow.

“My lord, did you require any assistance?”

“No- no, thank you. That will be all.”

He strips out of his clothing effortlessly, he feels rather practiced in doing so now, he thinks with a small snort.

He sinks into the water with a hiss, feeling lye sting countless open wounds. He winces, body recoiling as water and soap aggravate his abused rear.

Eventually, the pain becomes distant enough. He sinks into the bath, head hanging back against the lip of the clawfoot tub. The warmth of the water leaches the ache from his bones. He breathes out a sigh through his nose. He breathes in and smells lye soap and iron and semen.

He shifts in the narrow tub, thighs pressed together with a wince.

Heat stirs in him. His abused rim flutters and he shivers at the sensation of seed oozing from him. He sucks in a gasp, torn lower lip pulled between his teeth. He tells himself it’s only natural to seek pleasure where pain had been given.

His fingers brush the ruined flesh and flee instantly, the pain too bright.

He exhales, limbs loose. Desperate to replace Aerys’ pain with pleasure. A finger toys at his slit. His own hands feel foreign with blunt, well-kept nails.

Lucerys sighs in the warm waters, eyes closed, throat tight as he eases a finger into his quim.

He curls the digit gently, obligingly. Pleasure throbs warm to his toes. His back arches with a breathy sound.

A second finger joins the first, the angle making his shoulder ache. He arches in the tub, cold air on wet skin. His nipples stiffen as he thrashes, exposing more bits of flesh to icy scrutiny.

The rhythm of his fingers is insistent, hips bouncing, water frothing over the tub’s edge.

He worries a stiff nipple between his fingers, cunt clenching.

“Oh, fuck-” Lucerys sighs, brow furrowed, he slings a leg over the edge of the tub, wanton, unabashed.

He tugs on his nipple, the flesh tingles hot and cold from the abuse. Diligent fingers work in his core, curling and stroking silken insides.

His peak builds quickly, approaching like the tide. He gasps, willowy body pulling taut as a bowstring as his release ripples through him. He comes hard, soaking his own fingers.

“-Aerys!” He cries in time with his climax.

He slumps into the water, cheeks damp, spent and shuddering.

His head aches.

The remainder of his bath is carried out with a shamed sort of efficiency.

He adds a touch of sweet sleep to a goblet of strongwine and finishes the lot before climbing beneath his duvet.

___

Within the week there is yet another charred corpse in the throne room. Aerys had charged another, fire was his executioner. Innocent or guilty mattered not to their king.

The stench of smoke remains in his lungs, blackened upon his tongue, as he pores over a shipping manifest in his chambers.

Rhaella has paid visits of late, teary-eyed and fretting over him; so very grateful. Her bruises are beginning to fade, no longer caked beneath powder.

He rubs at his eyes, blinking at poorly drawn up inventory catalogs.

He starts at a brisk knock at the door.

“Enter,” he calls, parchment set aside. He neatens the wild fringe of white-gold curls with a pass of his fingers.

“Lord Admiral,” the familiar voice of Ser Gerold Hightower greets, a touch regretful if the slight turn of his mouth is any evidence.

“Lord Commander,” Lucerys replies, hesitant.

“The king has requested your presence.”

The king who had violated him. The king who had humiliated him. The king whom he loved, and would always love until he was laid to rest in the sea.

Lucerys ducks his head to hide his smile.

More than adequate, so it seems.

[artnoonewants]

Poor delusional Viserys 😔

[chappysuey]

Dragonriders

[westerosiladies]

[houseofyax]

The Casting BTS ✨

[allyriadayne]

Top 5 moments of Jace being a cunt across two seasons

[ophelieverse]

[princessbellecerise]

Happily Ever After

──── ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧ ────

summary | How the Yandere!HOTD characters would react after being told by your father that they cannot marry you

warnings | Smut, mentions of pregnancy, yandere behavior, public sex, violence, mentions of death and sword fights

this fic is eighteen plus. minors please do not enter

divider by @princessbellecerise

Jacaerys Velaryon

Prince Jacaerys grows desperate upon being told he cannot marry you

The usual level-headed and reasonable Prince that people are used to seeing quickly goes out of the window and is replaced by a man desperate to do anything to have you

Not having you by his side was not part of his plan, and it’s simply not an option

Jace absolutely refuses to have anyone else as his partner, and he’ll be damned if you marry anyone but him

After being told no by your father, Jace begins to spiral

Anyone can see that the Prince is clearly not happy, and his behavior starts to become panicked and irrational

Rhaenyra tells him to let it go; to let you go but she doesn’t understand. How can Jace let you go when you’re everything he’s ever wanted?

He tells, no begs your father to reconsider, tells him that he can’t imagine spending his life with anyone else but you

Jace tries to get him to see just how in love the two of are, but unfortunately your father still tells him no. And it’s nothing against Jace, he reassures the prince, but it’s just that—much to everyone’s surprise—your father has already made arrangements to betroth you to someone else

You of course have absolutely no knowledge of this, and you’re stunned when your father apologizes to Jace but it’s still a big, fat no

He sends you both away and tells you not to ask again because everything is final. And even when you burst into tears, begging your mother to not let him do this, your father doesn’t budge

“This alliance is vital for our House, Y/N. I’m sorry, but you will not be marrying the Prince.”

That night, you go to bed absolutely devastated and of course, you want nothing more than for Jace to comfort you. You wish to sneak out and go to his chambers like you normally do, but your father is smarter than you anticipated

As if he knew exactly what you intended to do, he asks Rhaenyra to place a royal guard at your door

No one is allowed in and no one is allowed out, which makes your plan of seeing Jace impossible

You beg and you plead, but the guard does not budge. He simply tells you go back to bed and alas, you do not see Jacaerys that night. Or any night after that

It seems that your father is intentionally keeping you away from the prince, whisking you away every time he tries to approach or arranging your schedule so that you do not run into him

Additionally, there seems to be a guard present for every little thing you do, so sneaking away isn’t an option

If you do so happen to even see Jace, it’s only through fleeting glances and the lack of contact begins to drive you both insane

You can’t stand being away from one another and time is running out. The only reason your family is in King’s Landing is because your father was there for business, but soon he will be finished and you’ll have to go back to your homeland. Without Jace, to marry someone else

The sheer thought of it gives you anxiety, but you’ve exhausted your pleas and by now you know that your father won’t listen

There’s nothing you or Jace can do to change his mind—or at least, that’s what you think

Two days before you’re supposed to leave though, a sudden knock on the door shocks you. When you open it, you’re expecting it to be one of your family members, but nothing—absolutely nothing—prepares you to see Jace standing on the other side; the guard knocked out, Jace’s fist bloody, and a wild look in his brown eyes

When you ask him what the hell happened, Jace responds by telling you that he can’t live without you, and that he was willing to do whatever it took to make you his

He couldn’t let you leave without doing something, and so that night, the prince takes you in every position that he can think of. Missionary, doggy style, against the wall, on the balcony

Anything to breed your pretty little cunt, anything to make sure that his seed takes

Jace hates it, he hates breaking the rules and as heir he knows what he’s doing is wrong

He knows that impregnating you while not being married could potential ruin him, you, and his mother. He knows how the greens would react to a bastard having a bastard, but he’s so afraid of losing you that he doesn’t care

Jace risks everything that night just to make sure that you stay by his side; and it works

A few days later, you still end up leaving with your family but on the journey back home you pray to the Gods that your plan works

You pray that Jacaerys’ seed takes root in your womb and to your utter excitement, you prayers come true

A few short weeks after returning home, you notice that your moon blood hasn’t come and you start to get sick nearly every morning

You’re barely well enough to attend any meetings with your so-called ‘betrothed,’ and it doesn’t take long for someone to catch onto your symptoms

When your maids discover what’s going on, they immediately tell your mother, who in turn tells your furious father

When you finally break the news, you swear that you had never seen him get so angry before. Had your mother not been holding him back, you were sure that he would’ve strangled you where you stood

Alas though, as much as he wanted to wring your neck he knew that harming the future Queen of Westeros would not be a wise decision

After all, there were no doubts about who the father of your unborn child was, and as soon as the news broke your father had furiously written to Rhaenyra and informed her of the situation

As soon you arrived in King’s Landing, you were all but thrown into a wedding gown, modified to fit over your stomach of course

But either way, you and Jace get exactly what you want—the opportunity to spend forever together, and six moons later, a healthy, chunky baby that just so happens to be born three moons sooner than anyone expected

Aegon Targaryen

Aegon is angry when your father tells him no

And it’s not just because of the rejection, it’s also because he knows—Aegon knows that the only reason he says no is because your father doesn’t think he’s good enough for you

In fact, your father flat-out tells him this, and to make things even worse, your father declares that you’ll marry his brother instead—the responsible, honorable Aemond

Like hell Aegon would ever let that happen

You are the one thing Aegon has that Aemond doesn’t. Someone to love and genuinely care for him, and Aegon isn’t going to let that go so easily

He has half a mind to draw his sword and kill your father on the spot for even suggesting such a vile idea, but you beg him not to. Despite heavily disagreeing with your father’s decision, you tell Aegon that there’s other ways to get him to change his mind that doesn’t involve bloodshed

Surprisingly, Aegon listens to you but you should’ve known it was only because he had already thought of something worse

You didn’t know it, but when Aegon lures you into his chambers the next day, he’s come up with a plan

He knows exactly how to get your father to change his mind, and his plan starts the moment he has you naked

Unfortunately, it’s not the first time you and Aegon have fucked so bedsheets are no use to him. No, your lover has to get a bit more creative than that

Somehow, Aegon convinces you to try something new and you end up bent over the Prince’s balcony as he fucks you from behind, his cock driving in and out of your slick cunt

It’s the middle of the day and what you’re doing is beyond risky, not only because you’re not married, but also because literally anyone could look up and see the two of you

You see, the Prince’s balcony just so happened to overlook the training yard, and though it was empty at the moment, Aegon knew exactly when it got crowded

All he had to do was wait for his chance, fucking you so good that you didn’t even grasp the situation

You were none the wiser as to what was happening, eyes closed as you basked in the pleasure. You moaned his name and clenched around his cock, feeling a familiar pinch in your stomach

Just as you reached your peak, you began to hear shouting from below

Startled gasps and a few screams had your eyes flying open, Aegon smirking as you caught the attention of at least twenty people—one of whom was your father

He stood, horrified as the prince locked eyes with him. Seemingly taunting him as he rutted into you, moaning and still fucking you against the railing

Aegon swore that he had never came so hard in his life—expect maybe on your wedding night less two days later, the memory of your father’s face and the satisfaction of getting what he wanted fueling what he calls, “The best fuck of his goddamn life.”

Daemon Targaryen

Daemon is amused upon being told no

He’s amused and it’s because he never really asked for permission in the first place. It was more like…a courtesy warning, and he only did it because he knew you were too scared to tell your father yourself

After all, the Rouge Prince has a reputation and it’s not exactly squeaky clean. Daemon’s track record with his wives is why your father said no, but he should’ve known that no isn’t in Daemon Targaryen’s vocabulary

In fact, Daemon merely laughs in your father’s face, declaring that the two of you will be married in a fortnight, regardless of what your father says

Show up or don’t, Daemon doesn’t care—but you will be his wife

And of course, your father protests, appalled that the prince is so bold

He even goes as far as to complain to the King, but Viserys is old and weak. There’s seldom that he can do to fight Daemon anymore except threaten to exile him again, but Daemon isn’t afraid of punishment

He’ll gladly leave the hell hole that’s King’s Landing, but he makes it clear that if he does, Westeros will never see him or you again

He relays this threat to your father, and in his desperation to keep you away from the Prince, your father all but flees in the middle of the night. Making sure that no one except those loyal to your House know where he’s taking you

Despite your protests and your attempts to alert Daemon, you’re dragged on a boat and shipped off to a far away land, one where your father hopes the Prince will never find you

He even goes so far as to change your hair and make up a fake identity for you, but he was a fool to think that he could ever cross Daemon Targaryen

If the Prince wasn’t annoyed with your father before, then Daemon is most certainly furious when he learns that he’s all but kidnapped you

He sets to work on finding you almost immediately, and he swears once he does he’ll kill anyone that helped with this ridiculous scheme

He starts his search by fiercely questioning all of the guards and servants that were tending to you. And because he’s Daemon Targaryen, it doesn’t take long to get the answers he’s looking for

With one look at Caraxes, the so-called men that were loyal to your house end up folding pretty quickly. Daemon has them all but fighting each other to give up your location, though unfortunately their honesty isn’t enough to spare their lives

In his pursuit to get where you are, Daemon leaves a trail of bodies

He kills anyone that he suspects of helping your father, though his rage won’t be satisfied until he confronts the man himself

And what do you know—your father truly is a fool of a man because it turns out that he took you to Pentos. Pentos, the land where Daemon Targaryen lived for years

Why he thought that was a good idea, no one knows. Perhaps he thought that hiding you in plain sight would be enough to fool Daemon, but unfortunately the rouge Prince is much too smart for that

And due to all of the connections Daemon has in the city (and his dragon) it takes him less than a week to locate you

He finds you hiding just on the outskirts of the city, in some rundown village. You look miserable as you chat with some of the locals, hatching your own plans to escape and somehow get back to Daemon

Your father was asleep in the house that you shared, though the beat of Caraxes’ wings are enough to alert you both, your father waking up and running outside just as Daemon lands in front of you

The Prince wears a smirk of triumph as he dismounts his dragon, taking in your father’s horrified face and laughing

He enjoys the moment almost as much as he enjoys the way you immediately run to you, ignoring your father’s protests and shouts to come back

It’s obvious who you choose by the way you hang onto Daemon, hiding behind him while Caraxes roars

There’s a moment where everything seems to stand still, and Daemon drinks in his moment of victory before slowly gesturing you towards his dragon, helping you mount

As you climb onto the red beast, Daemon slipping in the saddle behind you, the last thing your father sees is the smirk that adorns Daemon’s face

Lilac eyes with with his own, and then, Prince’s lips utter a single word

“Dracarys.”

Lucerys Velaryon

Poor Luke is devastated when your father rejects his proposal

It took all he had to muster up the courage to even ask, and now he’s crushed that he won’t be able to marry the love his life

Not only that, Luke genuinely cannot see himself with anyone else. You’re it for him, and he’s determined to be with you no matter what

Call it young love or maybe just sheer stupidity, but one night Luke sneaks into your chambers and hatches a plan

He tells you that there’s a way for you to be together, a way for you to have your happy ending after all. All you have to do is come with him, and he’ll take you to a place where no one, including your father, can come between you two ever again

And that night, when you flee with the Prince on the back of Arrax, it almost feels like a fairytale. You’ve never felt more alive than you did as you watched the Red Keep disappear into the night

With your heart beating as fast as Arrax’s wings, you and Luke run away, neither of you thinking of the consequences, or caring

You’re just so happy to be together that everything else falls into the background. Caught up in your own bliss, you and Luke flee to Essos where the Prince has arranged for you to be married

Like he promised, no one is there to object or to stop you from becoming one. They’re all too busy in King’s Landing looking for you both, your mother distraught and your father wondering what happened to his youngest child

Likewise, Rhaneyra nearly collapses when she finds out that Luke is missing, but Daemon reassures her he’ll be back. He doesn’t know when, he tells her, but he has a sneaking suspicion that when he does you’ll be in tow

And what do you know—four moons go by and it turns out that Daemon was right. You and Luke return to King’s Landing after all, and upon arrival you’re greeted by your weeping mother and your

concerned father

They both have so many questions—where have you been, what happened, why did you run away?

And everyone is so focused on questioning you, so relieved that the Prince isn’t dead after all, that they almost miss the glaringly obvious bump that’s concealed behind your blue dress

Almost

You try to hide it as best as you can, but when your father pulls you in for a hug you know that he can feel it. The horrified expression he wears when he pulls away confirms this. And when you back away, placing a loving hand over your stomach and settling into Luke’s arms, that is when he also takes note of the matching Velaryon pins on your clothes

“We have something to announce,” Luke tells his mother excitedly

You both share a loving look, and Rhaneyra’s eyes are ready to pop out of her skull when Luke places a hand over your stomach and grins

“Y/N is with child.”

Aemond Targaryen

Aemond takes your father’s words as a challenge

Despite how irritated he is at being flat-out rejected, he decides not to lash out or show any emotion really

For Aemond, keeping a level head is important. It allows him to plan, to strategize like he’s always been taught and to be able to stay one step ahead

He supposes he’s just like his grandfather in a way, and it’s obvious that your father underestimates just how far Aemond is willing to go for you

The first man that your father agrees to betroth you to only lasts about five minutes in the duel Aemond challenges him to

The second fairs a little better, though not by much. By the third, your father is furious and it’s become a game for Aemond to see how fast his opponent can last before they ultimately meet their maker

He wears a smirk the entire time he’s fighting, easily ducking and dodging and occasionally striking which wounds the man heavily. It’s obvious that he’s going to win, again, and the sobs and screams from the Lord’s family are hard to miss

They sit next to you in the crowd that surrounds him and Aemond, and every time Aemond lands a blow your father flinches, muttering under his breath how it was a mistake to ever let you meet that man

You on the other are ecstatic, occasionally locking eyes with Aemond and sending him encouraging smiles

You pray after each duel that your father will finally change his mind and allow you to marry Aemond, but it’s not until after the fourth duel does he agree

After a particularly bloody and grueling fight, there are no more proposals. Every Lord that had ever considered asking for your hand is now too terrified to even speak to you, and with the lack of marriage offers your father has no choice but to admit defeat

He agrees to marry you to Aemond, and of course, Aemond feels victorious. He smugly thanks your father for his reconsideration, shaking his hand and promising that he won’t be regretting his decision

[shellsnroses]

I’ve been designing some House of the Dragon acrylic keychains over on tiktok, here are the characters I’ve drawn so far!

[thevelaryons]

What do you think of the Velaryons in the main books? We barely know anything about them between Lucerys who was the lord of Driftmark during Aerys ii’ reign to Monford and later Monterys. Any headcanons? 👀

I talked briefly about the main series Velaryons in this post. I think they'll just continue to exist on the fringe of the story, with maybe Aurane playing a role going forward. My speculation on how Aurane may rejoin the plot, this time in allegiance with a Targaryen monarch. It's hard to say anything about the current lord, Monterys, as the books don't provide many details beyond the mention that he's 6 years old.

As for headcanons, well I do like the idea that Lucerys was the father of both Monford and Aurane. The books don't give Monford's age but his half-brother Aurane is mentioned as being in his early twenties (born in either 277 AC or 278 AC). So, in all likelihood, Monford must be somewhere in his 20s too in the ASOIAF timeline. That means Monford would have been around 5+ years old in the years preceding Robert's Rebellion (282 AC).

Parents in ASOIAF are known to take their young children to visit the royal court, as evidenced by this quote from Stannis:

"I remember the first time my father took me to court, Robert had to hold my hand. I could not have been older than four, which would have made him five or six."

Steffon Baratheon was known as an old friend of Aerys' and he had his children visiting the court. I see no reason why Lucerys, as the Master of Ships and one of the people in the Mad King's inner circle, wouldn't do the same with his son.

Some more headcanons, which then put this quote into perspective:

The Myrmen swapped jokes as they enjoyed the warmth of the fire, but young Lord Bar Emmon had turned a splotchy grey, and Lord Velaryon was watching the king rather than the conflagration.

In the scene where the burnings are happening on Dragonstone, as per Stannis' orders, everyone watches the conflagration, but Monford watches Stannis (and Davos watches Monford lol). I've always interpreted this scene as indication that perhaps little Monford might have witnessed those public executions by fire that were common at Aerys' court.

Lucerys, who was Aerys' Master of Ships, does not seem the type to care about much beyond his own political advancement. I doubt he would care what effect witnessing such things could have on a child.

The Mad King could be savagely cruel, as seen most plainly when he burned those he perceived to be his enemies, but he could also be extravagant, showering men who pleased him with honors, offices, and lands. The lickspittle lords who surrounded Aerys II had gained much and more from the king’s madness and eagerly seized upon any opportunity to speak ill of Prince Rhaegar and inflame the father’s suspicions of the son.

Chief amongst the Mad King’s supporters were three lords of his small council: Qarlton Chelsted, master of coin, Lucerys Velaryon, master of ships, and Symond Staunton, master of laws. The eunuch Varys, master of whisperers, and Wisdom Rossart, grand master of the Guild of Alchemists, also enjoyed the king’s trust.

So when Monford watches Stannis instead of the burning conflagration, he might have been thinking back on the Mad King. The books repeatedly make note of the fact that Monford does not want to be there, as he's not overly supportive of Stannis and even hostile to him at times. It's only because he's directly sworn to Stannis, who is Lord of Dragonstone, that Monford is obligated to serve him (especially with Driftmark being right next to Dragonstone).

And while Monford would certainly have the typical classist mindset of a Westerosi noble, I do also consider him to be someone willing to at least look beyond the social hierarchy enough to acknowledge the merits of a commoner who rose high. This is based on the fact that he's mentioned as being one of the few people who bothers to acknowledge Davos' existence:

When Davos arrived at the Stone Drum, a dozen highborn knights and great bannermen were just leaving. Lords Celtigar and Velaryon each gave him a curt nod and walked on while the others ignored him utterly.

Not to mention, Monford's bastard half-brother Aurane being part of the Velaryon retinue. You'd think he might seek to keep the bastard away as some other lords might do, in order to avoid the shame to their family, but Monford does no such thing. Also, when Aurane makes known his intention to Cersei that he wants a castle of his own, he never sets his sight on Driftmark, presently ruled by his nephew (Monford's son). Aurane (despite being a manipulative conman) shows no desire whatsoever to usurp his own family, which seems to suggest a positive relationship between the brothers.

[unusual-raccoon]

askdfkfjslnsjdbf SO TRUE @these tags. aerys being like ‘the eyes are watching me they scurry and skitter inside the walls i will never escape my enemies are burrowing beneath my castle’ and then lucerys is like ‘well dont worry :) ily. have you considered the true enemy is tywin? just a little thought i had hehe don’t mind me. love you x’

No, because we're right. Lucerys is like "🥺👉👈 my eyes are watching you too, cousin" while Aerys is being plagued by his own twisted mind. Lucerys, baby, this man's brain is being cooked like a boiled egg in his skull - he'd be so concerned by the prospect of Aerys being obsessed with something that wasn't him.

Spreading the anti-Tywin propaganda, yes he fucking would.

He is staunchly anti-Tywin. Beneath every frilly bit of lingerie and fine clothing he might wear is a "Fuck Tywin Lannister" t-shirt.

The idea of Lucerys becoming so anti-Tywin partially because Aerys just loathes the man so much is hilarious to me. I picture him seeing Aerys like 😠 at Tywin and so Lucerys is like 😠 at Tywin too.

Ending all small council meetings with a 'love you x'

[hauntedfictionland]

❝His dear princess❞

☾︎✰❛❀ Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem! Reader!

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

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

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

Jacaerys was infuriated with you.

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

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

He hated being betrothed to you already.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Husband.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bastard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Protecting you is.

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

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

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

“Jacaerys—”

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

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

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

“I promise.”

That, gives him great relief. “Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But there was still something he needed to let out.

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

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

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

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

“Why then?”

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

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

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

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

You say, a plea in your voice.

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

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

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

[nyraluv]

Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen looking at her children.

[spiiicysoda]

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི⟢ weddings together ⟢𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

[gotham-at-nightfall]

House of the Dragon Playing Cards

The King and the Queen

The Cast-Aside Queens

The Queen's Right-Hand men

The Second Sons

Daughters of the Rogue Prince

The Innocent and the Guilty

The New Hands

The Warden of the North

By Dvincii