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HOUSE OF THE DRAGON:

Jacaerys Velaryon:

• pregnant!reader x jacaerys velaryon

• a childhood love in winterfell part 1.

• a childhood love in winterfell part 2.

• his little sister

veiledinhope

the art of the near touch ( taste of ambrosia ) part three

jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader

summary — you and your brother jacaerys have always shared something stronger than blood. after the announcement of your betrothal, you both find it impossible to resist the temptation you have already given into once before.

content warnings — targcest, way too many pet names, kissing, dirty talk, praise kink, kinda brat/brat tamer dynamic, cunnilingus, very messy ( lots of spit and cum ), reader is so fucking horny all the time, cocky jacaerys velaryon, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, blow jobs, public sex

word count — 4.5k

note — wrote this over the space of 4 hours on my day off and genuinely went insane. enjoy part three 😛

part one part two

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indebtedto-you

The Price I'd Pay for You

Jacaerys Velaryon

jacaerys velaryon x forbiddenlove!reader

In the Red Keep, you are a Targaryen princess caught between duty and desire, a living sacrifice to political alliances. Since childhood, you've harbored a forbidden love for Jacerys Velaryon, a love he's always returned. But when your father arranges your betrothal to your own brother, Aegon, everything you've hoped for comes crashing down.

A story of forbidden love, political intrigue, and the impossible choice between the duty you were born to and the life you were meant to have.

genre/warnings: suggestive content, 18+ minors do not interact! childhood friends to lovers, forbidden love, yearning and longing and all the things that make something desirable to read. // familial sexual relationships, its GOT universe you know the vibe.

chapter 7 word count: 4132

notes: I very much enjoyed just writing a cute couple scene for them, they've really only had one or two at this point. Also I would like to preface, if you all haven't noticed by now, the story does follow the show BUT the timing is slightly off to flow easily for my version and I also dont feel comfortable relating sex to minors so I had to age them up... obviously.

Chapter 7

The wind whipped through your hair as your mare galloped across the open meadow, the tall grass bending beneath her hooves in rippling waves of green. Behind you, you could hear the thunder of Jace's stallion keeping pace, the powerful animal's breathing steady despite the speed. The Red Keep had grown small in the distance, its golden stone towers reduced to mere points on the horizon. Out here, with nothing but rolling hills and endless sky surrounding you, it felt as though you had escaped into another world entirely.

You urged your mare faster, leaning low over her neck as the landscape blurred past. The afternoon sun warmed your back through your riding leather. You've always much preferred the practical garments that allowed you the freedom of movement your court gowns never permitted. Your heart raced with exhilaration, with the pure joy of speed and hooves hitting the hard ground and the knowledge that Jace rode beside you.

Though nothing beat dragon back.

His stallion eventually drew level with yours, the black destrier's powerful strides eating up the ground with ease. His long mane taken from its plait, flowing freely in the wind. It was almost as beautiful as Jace's curly locks of sultry chocolate. Jace sat his mount with natural grace, his face alight with the same wild happiness you felt coursing through your very own veins. He caught your eye and grinned, that boyish expression that never failed to make your chest tighten with affection.

"Trying to lose me?" he called over the pounding of hooves.

"Merely testing whether you can keep up," you shouted back, laughing as you guided your mare around a gentle slope.

The horses began to slow as you approached a line of ancient oaks that marked the edge of the meadow. Beyond them, the land rode into gentle hills dotted with wildflowers, their colors vivid again the green grass. You pulled to a walk as you navigated the large trees, the mares sides heaving slightly from exertion, her coat gleaming with a light sheen of sweat. Jace's stallion fell into step next to yours, flitting his head as the white mare beneath you excited him. Two animals moving companionably together as their riders had done for years.

"You were telling me about Septa Marlow," Jace said once he had caught his breath, his tone deliberately casual though his eyes danced with amusement. "Something about embroidery stitches being the key to feminine virtue?"

You groaned, the memory of that interminable lecture flooding back. "She spent two hours explaining the moral superiority of the cross-stith over the running stitch. Two hours, Jace. I thought I might very well expire from boredom right there in the solar."

"Two hours seems excessive even for Septa Marlow." He guided his stallion closer until your legs nearly touched, the iron of your stirrups clinking as he did. "What did you do to deserve such punishment?"

"I may have suggested that my time would be better spent in the library studying the histories of the Conquest, or riding Starfyre, rather than stitching another cushion cover that no one will ever use."

Jace laughed, eyes meeting yours as he did, the sound was rich and warm in the open air. "I can imagine how well that was received."

"She told me that a proper princess concerns herself with womanly arts, not dusty old books about battles and dragons." You wrinkled your nose at the memory, your voice taking on a mocking imitation of the septa's pious tone. "As if our entire house was not built on the backs of dragons and the Targaryens that rode them."

"There it is," Jace said softly, something in his voice made you turn back to look at him.

"There is what?" You asked almost incredulously.

"That expression." His gaze had grown intent, focused on your face with an air that made heat bloom in your cheeks. "The way your nose wrinkles when you are particularly vexed. The way your mouth curves when you are trying not to smile at your own irreverence."

The air between you seem to thicken, charged with the familiar tension that always sparked to life whenever you were alone together. Your mare shifted, tucking her neck in and moving her hindquarters to bump into the black stallion beside her.

"Jacaerys Valeryon," you said, aiming for reproach though your voice came out breathless. "Are you telling me you were not listening?"

"I confess, Princess, I was not paying much attention to your complaints about embroidery. I find you far more captivating than any tale of septas and their moral stitchery." He reached across the small space between your horses, his gloved hand finding yours where it rested on your thigh.

Your throat tightened and a small smile lifted your cheeks. "You are insufferable."

"You love me anyway."

"Unfortunately." The word escaped as barely more than a whisper. "The most unfortunate thing that ever happened to either of us."

His hand tightened on yours. "Yet I cannot bring myself to regret a single moment. Even knowing how it would end, even knowing the price we would pay had we be discovered. I would choose you again and again."

You blinked against the sudden sting that cursed your eyes for the thousandth time. "As would I."

He dismounted in a fluid motion once you reached the wildflower field that you so desired and moved to you to help you down from your mount. His hand settled on your waist, strong and sure. You let yourself slide from the saddle into his arms. For a moment, you simply stood there, your bodies pressed close. The horses wandered a few paces away to crop at the sweet grass, their reins trailing, forgotten.

Jace cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs stroking your cheekbones with infinite tenderness. Then he kissed you, slow and deep, pouring everything he could not say into the stroke of his lips against yours. You melted into him, your fingers trailing up his torso feeling the ridges of his body until they landed safely around his neck.

When you pulled apart Jace nuzzled his nose against yours, his eyes honey colored in the lowering sun.

"I brought you something," he said after a moment, his voice warm with barely contained excitement.

"Oh?" You pulled back slightly to look at him, curiosity sparking through the haze of desire. "What manner of contraband are you smuggling on our ride today?"

He grinned, reaching into the inner pocket of his coat to produce a small cloth-wrapped bundle. "I know I promised you a horse one day, but you already have this beauty." He patted your mare's flank affectionately. "So, I thought perhaps something else might do instead."

You took the package carefully, inside lay a delicate silver chain, suspended from it was a pendant wrought in exquisite detail. A dragon, its wings spread in flight, its scales so finely crafted you could make out each individual one. Tiny garnets served as its eyes, catching the light like glowing dragonfire."

Your mouth hung ajar in awe. "Jace, it is beautiful."

"It is Vermax," he explained, taking the necklace from your hands with careful reverence. "I wanted you to have something of mine. Something you could keep close."

You touched the pendant with trembling fingers, feeling the careful detail of scales and wings, the weight of it both physical and symbolic. "I shall treasure it always, my Prince."

He moved behind you and fastened the chain around your neck. The pendant settled just above your heart, the metal still warm from being pressed against his chest during your ride. You turned to face him, catching his hand and pressing it flat against your chest so he could feel the pendant between you and his hand.

"Close to my heart, where you have always been," you murmured.

He pulled you close once more, his arms wrapping around you as you held him just as tightly, breathing in the scent of him. Around you, the meadow stretched endlessly, the wildflowers swaying in the breeze, the distant call of birds the only sound beyond your mingled breathing and the rustle of your horses.

The sun had begun its descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of gold and amber. The light caught in Jace's dark hair, turning it a light bronze, and illuminated the planes of his face with a warmth that made your chest tighten at just the look of him. Truly a Prince. You walked together in the fading afternoon, wrapped in each other, joking and talking in this small moment shared together.

The training yard rang with the clash of steel on steel, the sound echoing off the high walls of the training yard. Dust hung in the air, kicked up by boots and the occasional stumble. The afternoon sun beat down mercilessly, turning the packed earth into a furnace that radiated heat in the shimmering waves.

Jace circled Aegon warily, his practice sword held in a defensive position. Your husband moved with the lazy confidence of someone who had been drinking since midday, his movements sloppy despite his natural skill. They had been at this for the better part of an hour, a supposedly friendly sparring session that had grown increasingly tense as time wore on.

Luke stood off to the side with several other squires, watching his brother with poorly concealed anxiety for his well being. His hands kept clenching and unclenching at his sides, his young face tight with worry. aemond leaned against the weapons rack, his single eye tracking every movement with predatory focus. He had been making comments for the past twenty minutes, little barbs and observations that seemed designed to needle Jace into losing his composure.

"You favor your left side nephew," Aemond called out, his voice carrying clearly across the yard. "Any opponent worth his salt would have exploited that weakness three times over by now."

Jace ignored him, focusing on Aegon's next move. Your husband lunged forward with a clumsy overhead strike that Jace easily parried, the wooden swords cracking together with enough force to send vibrations up both their arms.

"Look at him," Aemond continued, pushing off from the weapons rack and sauntering closer to the sparring circle, his gaze deliberately sweeping over Jace with theatrical disdain. "One might almost forget he claims the blood of Old Valyria at all."

The observation hung in the air like a blade. Several of the watching squires shifted uncomfortably, exchanging glances laden with understanding. Luke took a step forward, his face flushing with anger, though one of the older squires caught his arm to stop him.

Jace's jaw tightened, his grip on his practice sword adjusting slightly. He did not respond, instead pressing his advantage against Aegon with a series of quick strikes that forced your husband back several steps.

"An observation," Aemond said, his tone deceptively silk as he circled the sparring circle. "It is curious, is it not, how the realm whispers about such things? How they wonder at the peculiar fortune that blessed your mother with sons who bear no resemblance whatsoever to their supposed father. One might almost think the gods themselves were commenting upon her... discretions."

The implication was unmistakable, a venomous suggestion that hung between them like poison. Aegon's eyes narrowed, his drunken haze burning away in the face of tension. He lowered his practice sword slightly, glancing between his brother and nephew.

"Aemond," he said, a note of warning in his voice.

"What?" Aemond spread his hand in a gesture of false innocence. "I speak only of what ever courtier in the Red Keep already knows. Their mother's reputation is hardly a secret, brother. The realm has long memories regarding such matters of... questionable paternity."

Jace's next strike came harder than necessary, catching Aegon across the ribs with enough force to make him grunt and stagger. Aegon's expression darkened, his grip tightening on his sword.

"Careful, nephew," Aegon said, his voice low and dangerous. "This is supposed to be friendly."

"My apologies, uncle." Jace's tone was perfectly controlled, perfectly courteous. "I thought you wanted a proper challenge."

"Oh, he cannot give you a proper challenge," Aemond interjected, moving to stand next to his brother now. "Aegon has been deep in his cups since breakfast. Perhaps you would prefer a real opponent?"

Every person in the training yard had gone still, watching to see how Jace would respond. The moment stretched taut as a bowstring, the air itself seeming to hold its breath. Jace moved suddenly, quick and fluid he pivoted his sword, pressing the blunted edge against Aemonds throat with enough force to make clear the intent. His jaw clenched, eyes burning with a fury so raw and consuming that it seemed to set the very air ablaze around him.

"I so badly wanted to ignore your cry for attention," Jace began, his voice carrying the weight of a threat that needed no shouting to be understood. "But speak of my mother again and I will forget this is a practice sword."

Aemond's smile was sharp as a dagger. "I simply state what everyone in this keep already knows. I did not know that your question to legitimacy and your mother's honor troubles you so... Proof of her shame, I fear."

Jace moved before anyone could react, dropping his practice sword and launching himself at Aemond with his bare hands. They collided with brutal force, Jace's fist connecting with Aemond's jaw hard enough to snap his head back. Aemond returned a push to Jace's chest before they went down in a tangle of limbs, rolling across the compacted earth as they grappled for advantage.

"Jace!" Luke's shout was lost in the sudden chaos as squires rushed forward, some trying to separate them, while others simply tried getting out of the way.

Aemond got his knee up into Jace's stomach, forcing him back long enough to land a vicious punch to his temple. Jace's head snapped to the side, blood spraying from a split above his eyebrows. He barely seemed to notice, driving his elbow into Aemond's ribs with enough force to crack bone.

Aegon had stumbled back, his practice sword forgotten as he watched his brother and nephew tear into each other. Luke tried to push through the gathered crowd desperate to reach Jace, though the press of bodies was too thick.

Aemond managed to get on top now, raining down blows on Jace's face and chest with methodical brutality. Years of resentment poured from his fists, every strike punctuated by ragged breathing and incoherent words. Jace got his arms up to protect his face, taking the hits on his forearms, waiting for an opening.

When it came, he took it. Jace twisted his hips and drove his knee upward with devastating force, catching Aemond in the side, hard enough to force air out of his lungs in a strangled gasp. As Aemond doubled over, Jace rolled them both, using his momentum to pin his uncle beneath him. He grabbed Aemond's wrist and wrenched it backward, drawing a howl of pain as the joint threatened to dislocate.

Jace rose to his feet, and landed a swift kick to the same painful side of Aemonds.

"Do not speak of my mother that way again," Jace answered viciously, staring down at Aemond with power as blood ran down his own face. "I am a dragon, same as you."

Jace drew back his foot for another strike, just to get the message across, he was no longer the small boy Aemond could once push around with ease. Two of the larger squires had managed to get hold of him, dragging him away before he could land another.

Aemond lay crumpled in the dirt. His face was a landscape of devastation, both eyes swollen nearly shut, his nose clearly broken and bleeding profusely, his lip split in multiple places. He coughed weakly, spitting blood onto the ground. His breathing came in shallow, pained gasps, each one clearly agony.

Luke was there immediately, his younger brother's hand finding his arm. "Jace, we have to go."

For a moment, Jace stood motionless, his gaze fixed on Aemond's broken form in the dirt. The rage still burned in his dark eyes, a living thing that demanded satisfaction. Then Luke pulled harder, his voice urgent and desperate.

"Jace! Please."

Something in his brother's plea seemed to reach him. Jace turned away from Aemond, from the ruined training yard with its scattered weapons and blood darkened earth, from the watching squires who had begun to back away in fear. He and Luke walked toward the gate, their footsteps heavy with the weight of what had transpired. Behind them, a testament to years of festering resentment finally unleashed.

You found him in his chambers an hour later.

The door was unlocked, which surprised you until you pushed it open and saw him sitting on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. He looked up at the sound of the door, and your breath caught at the sight of his face.

His left eye was swollen nearly shut, the skin around it already turning a deep purple that would darken to black by morning. The cut above his eyebrow had stopped bleeding though it needed cleaning, the edges ragged and angry. His lip was split, and there were bruises blooming along his jaw and cheekbone like dark flowers. His knuckles were raw and bloody, the skin torn from repeated impact.

"Jace," you breathed, closing the door quickly behind you and crossing to him.

"You should not be here." His voice was rough, strained.

"I do not care." You knelt in front of him, your hands hovering over his face, afraid to touch him for fear of causing more pain. "What happened? I heard there was a fight in the training yard, though no one would tell me details."

Before he could find words, you stood and moved to the washbasin in the corner, finding a clean cloth and dampening it with water. When you returned to kneel before him again, you began gently cleaning the blood from his face with meticulous care, your movements tender and deliberate. He winced as you dabbed at the cut above his eyebrow, his hands wringing at themselves.

"I am sorry," you murmured, working as carefully as you could. "I know it hurts."

"It is nothing." His fingers tightened, knuckles turning pale white. "I have had worse."

"That does not make it better." You rinsed the cloth and continued your work, cleaning away the dried blood to reveal the full extent of the damage. The cut would likely scar, a thin line bisecting his eyebrow. The thought made your chest ache. "A maester will need to stitch that."

You moved to clean the blood from his knuckles, your touch reverent and protective as you worked each split skin with gentle precision. His hands were strong, calloused from years of sword work, and seeing them damaged like this made something twist painfully in your chest.

"Aemond said things," Jace began quietly, his voice hollow. "About my mother, about..." He trailed off, his jaw clenching. "About what I am."

Your hands stilled and you looked up at him, searching his face. What you saw there made your blood run cold, doubt and uncertainty clouded his eyes. The poison of Aemond's words taking root in the mind of the man you loved.

Fury ignited in your chest, swift and consuming and protective.

"No." The word came out sharp as a blade. You set the cloth aside and rose to your feet, your eyes blazing. "No, Jace. You will not do this. You will not let him plant his venom in your mind and take root there like some festering wound."

He looked up at you, startled by the intensity of your anger.

"Do you hear me?" Your voice trembled with the force of your protective rage, directed not at him but at the cruelty that had been inflicted upon him. "Aemond is a bitter, jealous man who cannot bear that you are everything he will never be. He cannot bear your mother's love, your brothers' loyalty, your own honor. So he strikes at the only weapon he has, words, lies, poison meant to make you doubt yourself."

You moved closer, your hands clenched into fists at your sides. "You are the son of Rhaenyra Targaryen, the heir to the Iron Throne. You are a dragon rider, a man of courage and integrity. Your legitimacy is not questioned by those who matter, it is questioned only by those too small and bitter to acknowledge your worth."

Your voice dropped, frustration bleeding through. "What you did today in that training yard was exactly what Aemond wanted. Can you not see that? You show the people that his words have power over you, that there is something to hide, something to defend so desperately that you would break a man's face over it."

Jace's expression shifted, confusion giving way to a flash of anger. "You would have me stand there and let him speak of my mother that way? Let him call my brother-"

"I would have you be smarter than this." You cut him off, your tone sharp with worry rather than condemnation. "Aemond does not care about truth. He cares about getting under your skin, about making you lose control. Today you gave him exactly what he wanted, you gave the entire castle a spectacle, proof that the whispers about your legitimacy cut deep enough to make you violent."

He stood abruptly, his jaw clenched tight. "So I should simply endure it? Let him spread his poison unchallenged?"

"I am not saying that." You stepped closer, your hands reaching for his shoulders though he remained rigid beneath your touch. "I am saying that every time you react like this, you paint a target on your back. You make yourself vulnerable. Aemond knows precisely which words will make you lose your composure and he will use that knowledge again and again until it destroys you."

Silence fell between you, heavy and charged. Jace's face was twisted with emotions you could not describe, his hands still clenched into fists at his sides. The afternoon light slanted through the window, illuminating the bruises already darkening across his face, the split in his lip, the raw evidence of his loss of control.

"You do not understand," he said finally, his voice thick with emotion. "You cannot understand what it is like to have your very existence questioned, to have people look at you and see only doubt, only suspicion. Those words are not just insults. They are daggers aimed at everything I am, everything my brothers are."

"I know." Your voice softened, though the frustration remained. "I know it is unbearable but that is precisely why Aemond uses those words. He knows they will make you reckless, make you forget caution and strategy in favor of immediate satisfaction. He is counting on your pride to be your downfall."

Jace turned away from you, his shoulders tense. "So I am supposed to swallow my pride?"

You moved to sit beside him, placing a finger beneath his chin, forcing him to meet your eyes. "Every bruise on your face is a victory for Aemond. Every witness who saw you lose control is another person who will remember that the heir to the Iron Throne cannot master his own temper. That is what I am trying to make you see."

He stared at you for a long moment, conflict warring across his battered features. Slowly, the tension began to drain from his shoulders. His hands unclenched, reaching instead to cup your face with a gentleness that belied the violence still evident on his knuckles.

"I am sorry," he said quietly. "You are right, I let my anger cloud my judgment."

You leaned into his touch, your own hands coming up to cover his. "I am frightened for you. Do not give them reason to see you as unstable, as unworthy, you make it easier for them to justify taking everything from you."

He pulled you close, his battered lips pressing a sweet kiss to the top of your head. "Thank you my love, I will be more careful."

You held him there in the fading light, the tension between you slowly dissolving into something softer, more fragile. Outside, the Red Keep continued its daily rhythms, oblivious to the small reconciliation playing out in this chamber. Eventually you would have to leave, to return to your own rooms before your absence was noted.

For now, you simply held him and let him hold you, offering what comfort you could in a world that seemed determined to tear him apart.

Taglist: @claerysa , @nutellatacollama , @glooblyglob, @staergir1 , @ragebaittheinternet , @jaehaeratargaryenss

HIS LITTLE SISTER

Jacaerys Velaryon x sister!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, no war au.

summary: Reader is Jacaery's younger sister, born a year after him. The only exception is that you were born with typical Targaryen features. Now, that you're finally old enough your mother decided to marry you off to your uncle - Aemond Targaryen. Except, your sweet older brother is not pleased with this decision.

taglist: @claerysa

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"So, that's your brilliant idea? To give away your only daughter to this absolute monster?" Jacaery's angry voice echoed the walls of Dragonstone. The rain pelted against the windows, it was already late at night and Rhanerya was still working behind her desk. Until her oldest son interrupted her.

"That's what the king wishes to happen, Jace. He believes the marriage will reunite our families." She said simply, already tired of this conversation.

"With the cost of her own happiness?" Jace started walking towards her, the candle light catches his face.

"It's marriage, Jace." Rhanerya snapped. "A political duty to strengthen our house. I didn't have a choice either, a lot of people don't have a say in this matter."

"Well, you quickly find your way out of your marriage." He said with a scoff.

Rhaenyra's breath hitched at this sudden strike. "Jace, don't start this conversation again." She said in a low, steady voice.

"Aemond thinks we're bastards. He even thinks this about her, even though she inherited the Valyrian look. He's been teasing us about this since we were kids, and this never stopped. You think now this will change?"

"And you think we can prevent war, just like that?" She stood up, her jaw and fists were clenched.

He didn't say a word, just shook his head and looked at his feet with disbelief. How could she do this? Marry his sweet girl off to the Greens? She belonged to him. Her body, her soul. They were destined to be with each other.

Rhaenyra like she was reading his mind walked up to her first born and grabbed his shoulders. "I know you thought I would marry her off to you... but she's your sister, maybe it's better to keep your relationship this way?"

He didn't look at her. He couldn't. "Your grace" he said before bowing slightly and leaving this goddamn room.

Rhaenyra had no idea that your relationship now was far from 'being only siblings'. Only Daemon knew, but he knew everything. He saw when you two showed up late for dinner. Hair still messy and lips swollen from making out somewhere in the corner of Dragonstone. But he didn't say a word, only smirked like he always did. He saw when Jace sneaked out to your chambers late at night, and then he heard muffled moans and gasps filling your bedroom. But he never said a word to his wife.

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The next evening Jace wanted to visit you. He made a signal during breakfast. He tapped your foot under the table and gave you the look: I'll come visit you today. After fulfilling his duties he didn't make his way to his chambers, but to yours. It was already late and the moon started shining across the dark sky.

Jacaerys knocked on the door 3 times. This way you knew it was him. It was always three times. Three squeezes of your hand during council, meaning three words 'i love you'. Three kisses on your face: Two on your eyelids and one peck on your lips. Like you were something sacred.

That was how he had always treated you. To him, you were someone truly extraordinary. The fact that, out of all your siblings, only you possessed the unmistakable features of House Targaryen only reinforced his belief. He always said he thought you had been blessed by the gods themselves.

‎Since childhood, Jacaerys had always been fiercely protective and possessive of you. He never allowed other boys to touch you or even speak to you without his watchful eye. To him, you were someone to be cherished—he practically worshipped the very ground you walked on.

‎He constantly admired your grace, your spirit, and the way you carried yourself with quiet confidence. What he loved most was that you always knew your worth. You understood that Targaryens were not like other people. They set themselves apart not only through their striking appearance, but also through the dragons they rode.

‎And now? His mother expected him to simply accept giving you away to another man? He had always believed the two of you were destined to be together. Two siblings, meant to rule the realm side by side. The future King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

‎In his mind, the Targaryen line was always meant to continue through you and the children you would have together.

You opened the door, only a few inches for him to walk in. You looked past him to see if the hall was clear, if nobody was watching. He closed the door with his back and looked at you. His eyes shining with darkness and urgency.

"I spoke to mother. Her decision is final."

"I didn't expect her to change her mind anyway.." His lips crashed against yours with quite urgency. He wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you closer, so now there's no space between the two of you.

"If she refuses to change her decision..." he murmured, breaking the kiss just long enough to brush his thumb gently across your lower lip. "Then I will."

You had no idea what he meant—or what he was planning to do. For the first time, you found yourself at a loss for words.

He simply looked at you, his gaze lingering as though he were committing every detail of your face to memory. Then, without another word, he leaned in and kissed you again, deeper than before. "Lay on the bed." He murmured.

You obeyed, settling comfortably against the pillows. He lowered himself over you, supporting his weight on his elbows so he wouldn't crush you beneath him.

"You're mine," he murmured, his lips brushing against the soft skin of your neck before he nipped at it gently, drawing a quiet, breathy moan from your lips. His fingers moved to the laces of your gown, slowly loosening them. "And no one is going to change that."

He removed your garment first, taking his time as though he wanted to savor every moment. His gaze lingered over every inch of your skin—a sight he had admired countless times before.

Then you helped him out of his own tunic and underclothes, sharing lingering kisses after each piece of clothing was discarded. Soon, your garments lay scattered across the floor, and your eyes were drawn to his hard, already leaking length.

"Be a good sister and lie on your stomach," he whispered against your ear after you had wrapped your hand around him and given him a few slow strokes.

Without hesitation, you did exactly as he asked, settling onto your stomach.

"Jace—" The word dissolved into the pillow as his fingers found their way inside you, slow and deliberate. Your breath caught. "Gods, already so wet for me." His lips brushed the curve of your ear.

His chest was solid against your back, his weight anchoring you to the mattress as his fingers began to move. "Are you alright?" He asked, his voice strained.

"Mhmm" That's the only muffled sound you were able to make. You didn't trust your voice to speak full sentences.

"Lift your hips for me, my love." You obeyed with a loud groan, this angle making his fingers slide into you even deeper. "That's right, so perfect."

You felt his thumb circling your clit. This spot was so sensitive, that even a slight brush of his fingers made you twitch with need.

"Jacaerys I-" Your words were caught in your throat when he applied even more pressure, his movements quicker.

"It's alright. Are you close, sister?" His fingers curved right back into the deepest part of you.

"Yes, Gods." You heard your voice trembling. He diabolically removed his fingers out of you and stopped his movements.

"Jacaerys... please, please don't stop," you whimpered, turning your head to look at him. His chest glistened with sweat, rising and falling with every breath. His eyes were fixed on you, filled with unmistakable admiration, yet beneath that tenderness lurked something darker—an insatiable hunger that refused to be hidden.

"Shh, don't worry, my sweet girl." He began to stroke himself, slowly moving his hand.

Suddenly, you felt the tip of his cock at your entrance. You wanted to sink him deep inside you in one swift move. "You ready?" He asked, his chest pressed against you, no space left.

You only nodded, and that was enough for him. He watched himself disappearing into your welcoming heat. Inch by inch, slowly memorizing this moment.

When he was fully inside you, you let a strangled moan, louder than before.

"Shh, be quiet. You don't want anyone else to hear you, hm?" He whispered against your ear, his hot breath making your head dizzy.

You groaned against the pillow. With this muffled sound, he started thrusting, trying to create a pace that would satisfy both of you.

"Gods, you're clenching around me so hard." He grunted between deep and slow thrusts.

You could only let out a soft moan as the overwhelming pleasure washed over your entire body. He gently squeezed your hand, trying to ground and comfort you, but you were already too lost in the moment to notice anything beyond the sensations consuming you.

His movements grew increasingly unsteady, the bed creaking beneath the two of you with each deliberate motion. Every shift of his body sent another quiet protest through the wooden frame, matching the frantic rhythm between you.

That was love. That was a kind of intimacy only the two of you could share. It was nothing like a bedding ceremony, something you knew would happen soon at your wedding night—a hollow ritual meant to prove the consummation of a marriage, stripped of tenderness and reduced to obligation. This was different. This was something deeper, something real. Something that truly meant everything.

With only a few more movements, you cried out into the pillow, your fingers clutching the sheets as waves of emotion and sensation swept through you. For a fleeting moment, everything else faded away, leaving only the overwhelming intensity of the moment you shared.

Jacaerys was not far behind. Sitting up, he pulled you closer, his hands resting firmly against your waist. "Fuck, you feel so good- I'm gonna-"

After a few final thrusts, he collapsed against your back once more, pressing his cheek to yours as a deep, ragged groan escaped his lips. His warm breath fanned across your skin while he lingered there, reluctant to let go.

The two of you remained like that for a long while, your breathing gradually slowing as the silence settled around you. After a moment, he carefully turned you onto your back, one gentle hand guiding you while the other steadied you. Your hand came to rest on his shoulder as he leaned over you, his dark curls brushing against your forehead in a soft, ticklish touch.

"I love you," he whispered.

In the darkness of your chambers, you felt the warmth of his breath against your skin. He brushed a tender kiss across each of your eyelids before stealing a quick, gentle peck from your lips. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his gaze soft and full of quiet devotion.

"I love you too," you whispered, your fingertips gently tracing the freckles scattered across his cheek. A soft smile tugged at your lips as you held his gaze. "So much that, sometimes, it almost hurts."

He swallowed, as if trying to convince himself that you were truly there—that you were real. That somehow, the gods themselves had blessed him with you, with a love so rare and precious it felt almost impossible to believe.

For a moment, he simply looked at you, overwhelmed by the warmth of your affection and the quiet miracle of being loved so completely.

"I won't let them take you from me." He said with a stern voice.

"Jace, you know there's nothing we can do to prevent this-"

"We can stop this," he interrupted, his voice carrying a mixture of hope and determination.

When something needed fixing, Jacaerys had always been the first to search for a solution. He was the kind of person who faced every problem head-on, refusing to stand by when something—or someone—he cared about was at risk.

"You know the story of Queen Alysanne and King Jaehaerys? Our own ancestors." He asked and you only nodded looking into his eyes.

"They were brother and sister, just like us. But they married in secret. On Dragonstone," he continued. "The very same place we're living in now."

A slow smile spread across his face as the vision took shape in his mind. To defy everyone, to choose your own path, and to finally set things right. For the first time, it seemed as though he could see a future where everything fell into place.

"If we are bound by blood, then no one has the right to tear us apart," he said, his voice steady with conviction.

"And then?" he continued, his voice filled with a quiet certainty. "We will become the King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. We will rule together—just as they once did."

The thought seemed to ignite something within you, a vision of a future where you stood side by side, united against the world that had tried to keep you apart.

"We will have an empire unassailable..." You said with a sly smile.

"And our children will rule it forever and a day." He added, stroking your shoulders.

"What do you say, my sweet sister?" he asked, noticing the smirk slowly forming on your lips.

It was the same smirk he knew so well—the one that appeared whenever a dangerous idea began taking shape in your mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

entitled-fangirl

A toothy grin.

Jace x wife!reader

Summary: Jace finally introduces his wife to his uncles, aunt, and grandfather when they visit King's Landing. Things don't go quite to plan.

Warnings: fighting, implications of sex, kissing

Masterlist

..................................................

"Is that all you're packing?" Jace smiled.

Her head tilted up at his entrance. Then she smiled.

Jace's fingers traced down the soft sheets of her bed until he made it to her side. Jace had a way with his actions. Smooth and soft. His chest brushed against her arm. "That's all?" he purred in her ear. "Just three dresses?"

"Three is a lot, Jace," she reasoned gently. "If we're going by dragon back."

sarcastic-shit-recs

sharing you? i think the fuck not

indebtedto-you

The Price I'd Pay for You

Jacaerys Valeryon

jacaerys velaryon x forbiddenlove!reader

A story of forbidden love, political intrigue, and the impossible choice between the duty you were born to and the life you were meant to have.

chapter 6 word count: 6479

notes: Hey... I know I said to be patient for this next chapter buuuut- I finished editing and adding to it and it's my favorite chapter yet. It has the most smut filled scene yet, a full biopsy was done basically lol. I'm not kidding though, most of those 6k words are just smut... Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

Chapter 6

Morning came too soon, announced by the soft knock at the chamber doors. You had returned to bed sometime before dawn, lying as far from Aegon as the mattress would allow, staring at the canopy overhead while he snored softly beside you. Sleep had been impossible, despite not sleeping the night prior your mind would not let you rest. It churned with thoughts of Jace, of the future, of any and everything.

Aegon stirred as the knock came again, more insistent this time. He groaned a sound of pure misery and pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead. His eyes were still closed when he sat up, moving with the careful deliberation of a man whose skull felt as though it might split open at any moment. The beautiful morning light that filtered through the window made him wince when his eye peaked open for only a brief time. Then, he threw his arm across his face to shield himself from it's assault.

"Gods," he muttered, his voice hoarse and strained. "Make it stop."

The knock came a third time, louder now. Aegon flinched at the sound then swung his legs over the side of the bed with obvious effort, moving as though every joint ached. He stood unsteadily, gripping the bedpost for balance, and you realized with a start that he was still drunk or at least caught in that miserable space between intoxication and sobriety where the world felt hostile and your own body betrayed you.

When the fourth knock came Aegon froze, tension seizing his shoulders before he finally spoke. His voice was sharp, irritable.

"Give us a moment, stop knocking for the love of gods." He said with clenched teeth.

Aegon studied you for a moment like he was remembering all that had happened the day before, then moved to pull on his breeches and tunic with jerky, irritable movements. He hissed through his teeth as he bent to retrieve his tunic from the floor, clearly regretting the motion immediately. Once dressed, he stood swaying slightly, one hand pressed to the back of his neck.

"Come," he said watching the door with irritation. "You insolent cunts," he murmured after.

The door opened again before you could respond. Maester Orwyle entered, his expression professionally neutral as he carried his satchel of instruments and remedies. Behind him came two serving women, their eyes downcast as they waited by the door.

"My Prince," Maester Orwyle said, bowing to Aegon before turning his attention to you. "Princess, I must perform the examination to verify the consummation of your marriage."

Your stomach twisted, this was the part you dreaded most, the clinical inspection that would confirm what the court needed to believe. You sat up slowly, pulling the sheet around yourself as modesty demanded, though modesty felt like a cruel joke in this moment.

Aegon moved to the window, then immediately regretted it as the full force of the morning light struck him. He turned away with a sound of pain, pressing his palm against his eye. His posture was rigid, tense, nothing like the relaxed disinterest you might have expected. He looked as though he might be sick at any moment.

Maester Orwyle approached the bed with measured steps, he examined the sheets, his weathered hands lifting the fabric to inspect the stains more closely. His expression remained impassive as he noted the placement, the quantity, the color of the dried blood.

"The evidence is clear," he said after a moment, his tone matter-of-fact. "The marriage has been consummated and the Princess's maidenhood had been claimed by her husband, as is proper and expected."

Relief and revulsion warred within you. Relief that the deception had worked, that Aegon's pragmatic solution had spared you further scrutiny. Revulsion at the entire spectacle, at the reduction of your body and your choices to this single moment of verification.

"Very good," Aegon said from across the room, his voice sharp and hopelessly dismissive. "You may inform the King and Queen that all is as it should be. Now, if you're finished, I have a pressing need to return to my bed."

Maester Orwyle bowed, clearly taken aback by the Prince's curtness. "Of course, my Prince." He turned to the serving women. "Prepare the sheets for display."

The women moved forward with practiced efficiency, stipping the bloodied linen from the bed while you sat frozen, clutching the remaining sheet around yourself. They folded the stained fabric carefully, reverently, like they held a holy relic rather than a sheet with a lie dripped onto it.

When they finished, Maester Orwyle departed with another bow, the serving women following close behind with the bundled sheets.

Aegon immediately sank onto the bed once more, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. His jaw clenched, his breathing shallow. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and strained.

"I am going back to sleep, tell mother I need rest."

You closed your eyes briefly, steeling yourself for what was to come.

The great hall had been prepared for the formal display. Banners bearing the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen hung from the vaulted ceiling, long tables filled with fruits and cakes to enjoy. The morning light streamed through the tall windows, illuminating the assembled crowd. Members of the royal family stood on the dias next to the Iron Throne, while the lords and ladies of the court filled the space below, all gathered to witness the proof of your union with Aegon.

You stood beside your husband now, mother had dragged him out of bed by his ear and practically dressed him herself. Your own appearance was immaculate, a gown of deep green silk, your hair arranged in an elaborate style, braided and pinned with golden ornaments that caught the light. You looked every inch the dutiful Princess, the perfect bride.

The dias held the weight of the realms approval. Your father sat enthroned while your mother stood with the satisfaction of a woman who had orchestrated exactly what she desired. Helaena drifted somewhere in her own distant world, her eyes unfocused on things only she could perceive. Aemond's singular gaze was sharp as a blade, assessing and cold.

On the other side of the throne, Rhaenyra and her family stood, gathered like a storm cloud. Laenor's relaxed posture proved steady, and Luke fidgeted with visible discomfort at the ceremonies formality.

Though it was Jace who held your attention if only brief. He stood slightly removed and his dark eyes found you with an intensity that made you look away almost instantly. His formal wear always stood out to you, it made him look regal and truly a Prince of the Iron Throne. Yet, it was the tension radiating from him that truly captured you, the rigid set of his shoulders, the barely concealed anguish tightening his features, the white knuckled grip of his hands at his sides. To the casual observer, he appeared merely dutiful, appropriately attentive to the proceedings.

You knew the truth of what lay beneath that careful control and the knowledge of his suffering made your chest ache.

Maester Orwyle stepped forward, carrying the folded sheets with ceremonial gravity. He moved to the center of the hall, where a table had been prepared for the display. With care, he unfolded the linen, spreading it out so that the stains were clearly visible to all.

"Behold," he announced, his voice carrying through the hall. "The proof of consummation. Princess and Prince Aegon's union has been sealed in the sight of gods and men."

A murmur of approval rippled through the crowd. This was what they had come to see, the confirmation that everything has proceeded according to tradition and expectation. Your virtue had been proven, your value as a woman and bride confirmed.

You kept your gaze fixed on the middle distance, refusing to look at the sheets, refusing to acknowledge the spectacle being made of your body. Aegon stood beside you with his usual air of detached amusement, playing his role with the ease of long practice.

Then you made the mistake of glancing back to Jace.

His face had gone pale. He was staring at the displayed sheets with an expression of dawning horror and confusion. You watched as understanding crashed over him like a wave, as the pieces fell into place in his mind.

King Viserys rose from his chair with effort, drawing the attention of the hall. "The union is confirmed," he declared, his voice weaker today then usual but still carrying authority. "Prince Aegon and the Princess have fulfilled their duty to House Targaryen. May their marriage be long and fruitful."

The court erupted in polite applause, the lords and ladies offered their congratulations, their voices blending into a meaningless din. You smiled and nodded, accepting their praise with practiced grace. all while your heart screamed for a man that stood only feet from you with devastation written across his face.

The ceremony concluded and the crowd begin to disperse, moving toward the doors in clusters of conversation and gossip. You remained on the dais beside Aegon, trapped by protocol and expectation, unable to move, unable to breath.

You waited around until midday before making your escape. The morning had been filled with audiences and smiling and nodding until you thought you would fall over from performance. Your mother had kept you close, parading you before various nobles as though you were a prize to be displayed.

Finally, you claimed enough fatigue and requested permission to retire to your chambers. Alicent had granted it with a knowing smile, assuming you needed rest after your wedding night. You had smiled back and thanked her, then made your way through the corridors with measured steps, giving no indication of your true destination.

You moved through the lesser used passages of the Red Keep, your heart pounded as you descended the stairs that led to the lower levels, then out through a side entrance that opened onto the path leading to the Dragonpit.

The air outside was cool and fresh after the stuffiness of the keep. You pulled your cloak tighter around yourself and walked quickly, your boots crunching on the gravel path. The Dragonpit loomed ahead, its massive stone structure dark against the afternoon sky.

You entered through the main gates, nodding to the dragonkeepers who recognized you immediately. They bowed and stepped aside, allowing you passage into the vast cavern where the dragons were kept.

Starfyre sensed your presence before you reached her alcove. Her call echoed through the stone chamber, a sound of recognition and welcome that made your chest tighten with emotion. You rounded the corner and found her waiting, her pale scales gleaming in the dim light, her golden eyes fixed on you with intelligence and concern.

"Lykirī, ñuha riña," you whispered, approaching slowly. Easy, my girl.

She lowered her massive head, allowing you to press your forehead against her snout. The warmth of her, the familiar scent of smoke and dragon, grounded you in a way nothing else could. You closed your eyes and breathed deeply, letting the tension drain from your body.

"I needed you," you murmured against her scales. "I needed to be somewhere real."

Starfyre rumbled softly, a sound of comfort and understanding. Her presence was a balm to your frayed nerves, a reminder that some things remained constant even when your world had been turned upside down.

You stood there for a long moment, simply existing in her presence, letting the chaos of the last few days fade into the background. The dragonpit was quiet save for the occasional shift and rumble of the other dragons in their alcoves. This was your sanctuary, the place where you could breathe without the weight of expectation crushing down on you.

Then you heard footsteps. You turned, your heart leaping into your throat before you saw Jace emerging from the shadows of the corridor. He stopped when he saw you, his expression raw and unguarded in a way it hadn't been in the great hall. His dark eyes were red-rimmed, his jaw tight, his entire body radiating tension.

"Jace..." you breathed.

He crossed the distance between you in what felt like an instant, pulling you into his arms with desperate intensity. You clung to him, your fingers digging into the fabric of his tunic, your face pressed against his chest. He held you as though you might disappear if he loosened his grip, his breath ragged against your hair.

"I don't understand," he said, his voice breaking. "How was there blood? The maester's proclamation... They declared you went to your marriage bed a maiden, yet I know with absolute certainty that you were not."

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, your hands framing his face. "You were my first, my love," you said firmly. "The only one who has ever truly mattered to my heart and my body."

Confusion flickered across his features.

"The blood was Aegon's, not mine," you explained quickly. "he cut his own hand and spread it on the sheets to create the appearance that I had been a maiden. It was a deception, Jace. A constructed falsehood for the benefit of the court... And me."

He stared at you, processing this information, his expression shifting from confusion to understanding to something darker. "He deliberately deceived the realm to protect you?"

"To protect us both," you said. "He desires this marriage no more than I do. Last night , he made me an offer of considerable hope." You took a breath, steadying yourself. "He said I might have my freedom in private. That I could see you, be with you, provided I maintain the appearance of a devoted and dutiful wife before the court. He does not care what I do behind closed doors, with you."

Jace's hands tightened on your waist. "He is permitting this? Permitting us to continue to be together?"

"Yes." You searched his face, desperate for him to understand. "It's far from perfect. It is not what we had dreamed of or desired. We have to exercise the greatest caution more than we have ever practiced before. A single misstep and everything crumbles to dust."

He was quiet for a long moment, his gaze moving over your face as though memorizing every detail. When he finally spoke his voice was rough with emotion. "I believed I had lost you entirely. When I saw those sheets, when they proclaimed you had been a maiden, I thought I had imagined everything between us. That this, us, was some fevered dream."

"This is the only genuine thing in my entire existence, Jacaerys. Everything else is mere performance and duty and carefully constructed lies. You are my truth."

He kissed you then, hard and desperate, pouring all his fear and relief and love into the press of his lips against yours. You kissed him back with equal intensity, your hands tangling in his hair, your body pressing against his as though you could merge into one person and never be seperated again.

When you finally broke apart both of your breath was heavy and long. Jace rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, his hands still gripping your waist as though you would drift away if he let go.

"I can't bear to share you with him," he said quietly. "I understand why I must. I comprehend that this is our reality now. You are his wife by law and custom, and I am merely-" He broke off, his jaw clenching. "I cannot endure the thought of his hands laying on your skin."

"He barely touched me at all," you said softly. "It was duty fulfilled, nothing more. Mechanical and swift. He desired it no more than I did." You cupped his face, forcing him to look at you. "You are the one I want. You are the one I choose of my own free will, every time, without hesitation or doubt, it is you."

His eyes stained red with unshed tears. "I should have fought harder for you. Should have discovered some means to prevent this from happening, to shield you from your fate."

"There was no possible way to prevent it," you said. "I think you know that and yet you strike yourself with the thought of you being able to protect me. We will take this opportunity to be together, even if it must remain hidden for the rest of our lives. That is more than I dared hope we would have."

He pulled you close again, burying his face in your hair. You held him tightly, feeling a tremor that ran down his spine, the barely contained emotion threatening to break free.

"Come with me," you whispered against his ear.

The moment understanding flickered in his eyes, his entire body responded. His grip on you tightened, his breathing quickened, the shift in him from devastation to desperate need. When you took his hand, lacing your fingers through his, his palm was hot against yours, feverish with want.

You led him deeper into the Dragonpit, the stone corridors grew narrower, the air cooling and carrying the mineral scent of ancient stone mingled with the faint sulfurous tang that clung to everything in this place. Your footsteps echoed softly against the worn flagstones that had been walked by dragonkeepers and Targaryens for generations.

You could feel the tension radiating from Jace, the barely restrained hunger that made his fingers tighten around yours with each step. When you glanced back at him his eyes were fixed on you, dark and honeyed with desperation. The curve of his lips sent heat flooding through your body.

The network of the smaller chambers branched off from the main cavern like veins through rock, you knew the path by heart now, you had walked it countless times over the past year. Every turn, every shadowed alcove, every crack in the stone was familiar territory.

When you reached the heavy wooden door that hung slightly crooked on its iron hinges, weathered and scarred by time, Jace moved closer behind you. You could feel the heat of him at your back, could hear his breath and feel it tickle the hairs that stood on the back of your neck as you pushed open the door with your available hand. The hinges groaned softly in protest, a sound that had become as familiar as a lover's sigh.

Inside, the room was exactly as you had left it. No larger than a modest bedchamber, its walls were rough stone that still bore the marks of the tools that had carved them. The air was cool and still, light filtered through narrow cracks in the ceiling where mortar had crumbled away over the years.

The blankets you had brought here, thick wool that smelled faintly of lanolin and smoke, worn soft by use and time, were already spread across a section of the floor from your last visit. The makeshift bed had become a sanctuary, a place where you could truly just be together, even if it was dark and lonely.

Jace closed the door behind you with a soft thud that seemed to seal you both away from everything beyond these walls. The sound of it settling into its frame was familiar, comforting in its finality. The moment the latch clicked into place something in him seemed to break free. His hands instantly finding your waist pulling you against him with a desperation that stole your mind, body and soul.

The kiss was nothing like the gentle, love filled touches you had shared before. This was hunger, raw and unrestrained. One hand rose to the back of your head, his fingers threading through your silver hair with possessive urgency. The other hand pressed firmly against the small of your back, drawing you into him with almost bruising force until your body was flush against his, every line of you aligned with every line of him.

He leaned over you, his lips moving against yours with devastating intensity, his tongue seeking entrance as he angled your head back, deepening the kiss until it felt like drowning in the most exquisite way. His body pressed into yours with the weight of months of longing, of desperation, of a love that had nowhere else to go but into this moment, this touch, this claiming of you that was both tender and fierce.

When he finally pulled back you were both trying to catch your breath, your chest heaving against his. For a long moment, neither of you moved. His eyes searched yours and yours his, your pulse quickened, seeking something in the depths of each other's gaze. In that suspended moment of silence, with only the sound of your ragged breathing filling the small space between you, the connection between you deepened. More intimate than any touch, more binding than any vow.

You reached for the laces of his tunic, fingers finding the leather ties that held the garment closed. The moment your hands touched him, he caught your wrists. His grip was gentle despite the tremor running through his fingers. When you looked up at him, you saw a war playing out across his features.

Desire burned in his eyes, hot and undeniable but beneath it lurked something else. His gaze was held on your hands and his wrapped around your wrists.

"Tell me this is truly what you desire," he said, his voice strained. "Tell me you are not doing this out of some sense of obligation to me, or because you believe it is what I require of you to feel more like the man that is yours." His thumbs brushed over the sensitive skin of your inner wrists, a touch so gentle it made you shiver.

"Allow me this," you said softly, bending in attempts to catch his gaze, to pull him out of his thoughts. "I beseech you Jacaerys. I need this more than I can properly express. I need to feel as though my body belongs to me again, as though my choices are my own to make."

Understanding dawned in his eyes like sunrise breaking the horizon. The fear melted away, replaced by something deeper and more profound. He released your wrists slowly, his fingers trailing over your skin as he did.

You unlaced his tunic with slow, deliberate movements, your fingers working the leather ties with practiced ease despite the trembling in your hands. Each tie you loosened felt like reclaiming a piece of yourself, of him.

When the last tie came free you pushed the tunic from his shoulders. The fabric was fine, warm from his body heat, it slid down his arms with a soft rustle. Your hands moved to the ties of his breeches next, fingers finding the laces at his waist. He drew in a sharp breath as your knuckles brushed against his lower stomach, the muscles contracting there in anticipation.

"Slower," he murmured, his voice taking on an edge of command. "I wish to savor this moment."

You obeyed his request, deliberately slowing your movements as you worked the laces free. Intentionally brushing his hardening length that hid beneath the leather with your delicate fingers, purposefully sneaking glances at his face as you knelt in front of him. When the laces finally came undone you pushed the breeches down over his hips, letting them sit at his feet. He stepped out of them, standing before you in only his smallclothes.

The light caught on his skin, highlighting the definition of muscle, the slight hollow at the base of his throat where his pulse beat visibly and his apple bobble with each swallow. You simply looked at him for a moment, drinking in the sight of him half-bare before you.

Your hands moved over his chest, palms flat against his skin. He was almost hot to the touch and you could feel his heart beat race beneath you. You traced the lines of muscle with your fingertips, following the contours of his body, relearning the familiar landscape that you had explored so many times before.

Slowly, you led one finger down the trails of his stomach, where the muscles tensed and released with each breath he took. His skin was smooth and soft in some places, rougher in others where training had left its mark on him. A scar on his ribs from a training accident years ago, a thin white line that you traced countless times before.

Goosebumps raised on his skin in the wake of your finger. His breathing stopped as you trailed lower over the fine trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his smallclothes, you watched him as his eyes became lost and his lips parted in want.

"Lie down," you instructed quietly, your voice barely above a whisper in the stillness of the chamber.

He obeyed without hesitation, lowering himself onto the blankets. The wool compressed beneath his weight and he settled onto his back, his beautiful dark hair spreading across the makeshift pillow he had created from other blankets and hay. His eyes never left your face, watching you with an intensity that made your skin flush red.

You knelt beside him on the blankets, the wool soft beneath your knees. Your lips found his chest, trailing downward with deliberate slowness, your mouth and hands working in concert to unravel him. He let out a soft deep croon, his lips parted, watching you intently as he surrendered to your control.

When you reached his waistband, you paused, your fingers finding the hem at his hips. You looked up at him, meeting his gaze now. His eyes were filled with desire and something deeper, reverence, awe, desperate need all tangled together.

You pulled his smallclothes down slowly, revealing him inch by inch. He lifted his hips to help you and you drew the fabric down his thighs and off completely, tossing it aside. He was already hard, as you had imagined when you unlaced his breeches, but now you see his arousal straining toward his stomach.

Wrapping your hand around him, you felt the heat and weight of him in your palm, the silken skin that covered rigid flesh. His breath hitched at the contact, his head falling back against the blankets, his eyes closing as the sensation washed over him.

You stroked him slowly at first, watching his chest rise and fall more quickly than before with each movement of your hand. Soft sounds fell from his lips that he seemed unable to control. You could feel him pulse in your grip, could feel the way his hips shifted slightly, seeking more.

"Tighter," he breathed, his hand covering yours, showing you the pressure he craved.

Then you lowered your mouth to him, your lips parting to take him in. The taste of him flooded your senses, salt and musk and an undeniable sensation of happiness. You took him slowly, savoring every inch, feeling every vein on your tongue. His fingers tangled in the strands of your hair, resting there, you knew he was resisting the urge to press you down further.

You glanced up at him through your lashes, wanting to see his face, to witness what you were doing to him. His head was back, his throat exposed, the tendons standing out in sharp relief. His lips were parted with the intense feel of his lips wrapped around his cock. The sight of him like this, undone by your touch, sent a thrill of power through you.

You worked him with your mouth and hand together, finding the rhythm that made his breath hitch, that drew those soft sounds of pleasure from deep in his throat. You hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper then pulling back to trace the sensitive underside with your tongue. His hips jerked slightly at that, a soft curse falling from his lips.

"Seven hells," he gasped, his voice breaking on the words. "The things you do to me... I cannot..."

You looked up at him again, deliberately meeting his eyes this time while your mouth was still on him. The effect was immediate, his expression transformed, pleasure and wonder and something like worship crossing his features. His hand tightened in your hair, still not guiding but holding on as though you were the only solid thing in a world that turned to dust.

"You are magnificent," he breathed, his voice rough with barely controlled passion. "The sight of you, the feel of you, I am completely undone beneath you."

This was power, this was choice. Your body, your desire, given freely to the man you loved. Not duty or obligation or performance for someone else's benefit. Just you and him and the pleasure you could give each other.

You continued your ministrations, watching his face intently now. Watching his jaw clench, his eyes flutter closed, finding what drew those beautiful sounds from his throat. When you took him deeper once more his whole body tensed. You could feel the way his muscles coiled tight as pleasure built inside him. His breathing had become uneven, his chest rising and falling rapidly. The hand in your hair became its own, showing pressure as his fingers flexed against your scalp.

He wanted you to go faster, he wanted to finish.

His face contorted with pleasure, his brow furrowing, his lips parting on a silent cry. You watched as his eyes met yours again, darker now, intense and filled with such love that it made your heart swell.

You pulled back before he could finish, releasing him with a soft pop. His eyes widened as you did so, confusion and desperation for release warring in his expression.

"Not yet, my Prince." you said meeting his gaze once more as you untied the laces of your gown. "I want you inside of me when you come undone. I want to feel you let go."

He quickly sat up to help you with your laces, fingers fumbling in his eagerness. Together you worked the fastenings loose and he pulled the fabric away from your body with more force than necessary, his patience clearly fraying. The gown slid down your arms and your waist until it sat on the floor. The cool air of the chamber raised goosebumps on your newly exposed skin, your nipples tightening in response.

You wore only your chemise now, the thin linen doing little to hide the shape of your body beneath. Jace's gaze moved over you with undisguised hunger. You reached for the hem of the chemise and pulled it up and over your head in one smooth motion, baring yourself completely to him.

The cool air was no comparison to his gaze. So heated, full of love and desire that made you feel beautiful and wanted and wholly yourself. You had never felt more seen, more known, than you did with him. Looking at you like you were something precious, sacred.

"Come here," he commanded, his hand motioning for you.

You got back down to his side now and his hands immediately found your waist, pulling you down beside him. His palms roamed your skin, caressing your sides, your hips, sliding up to cup your breasts, squeezing your nipples gingerly. You gasped at the sensation. You wished to let him have his way with you but this was your moment.

You moved to straddle him, your knees settling on either side of his hips, reclaiming the control you had established. His length lay flat against his stomach as you rubbed your very ready heat against it, letting yourself edge even yourself in this moment.

You raised your hips, taking him in your hand, circling his tip against the entrance of you. His hands came to rest on your hips, his palms hot against your skin, his fingers spread wide showing the scale of his hands in comparison to you.

"Wait," he said, his grip tightening. "Let me guide you down."

His eyes were locked with yours, he held you suspended above him for a long moment, before slowly pulling you down onto him. You sank, inch by inch, the stretch exquisite to your core, the fullness overwhelming in the best possible way. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you let yourself moan and enjoy him.

Once you had him fully within you he let out a breath, lips parted, he said your name in lust.

"Do not move yet," he commanded breathlessly. "Let me feel you stretched around me, taking me so perfectly."

His eyes were locked on your face, watching every expression that crossed your features.

"Perfection itself," he breathed reverently, as though he were speaking to himself. "Now, show me how you wish to take your pleasure from me Princess..."

You began to move, lifting yourself slowly and then sinking back down. The friction was delicious, sending sparks of pleasure racing up your spine and deep in your belly. You set a rhythm that pleased you, that gave you exactly what you needed.

"Faster," he urged after several moments, his hands gripping your waist more firmly, beginning to guide your movements with more authority.

His hands roamed over your body as you moved, caressing your thighs, your hips, sliding up to cup your breasts. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, your head fell back once more letting the twisted desire flow through you as he played with your curves.

This was reclamation. This was healing. Every movement, every gasp, every moment of connection was yours to claim and his to give freely. You were taking back what had been taken from you, asserting ownership over your own body, your own pleasure, your own choices. The power of it thrummed through your veins like dragonfire.

"Touch yourself," he commanded, his voice strained with the effort of restraint. "I want to see you come undone whilst I am buried deep in you."

You obeyed, your hand moving between your legs to where your bodies joined. Your fingers found the sensitive bundle of nerves there, slick with your arousal and you began to circle it with practiced movements. The added sensation made you moan louder and louder, a sound that echoed off the stone walls of the chamber.

"Oh Jacaeyrs..." you called feeling him hitting the exact spot needed, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter inside you.

His hips began to move beneath you, meeting your downward movements with shallow thrusts that drove him deeper. WIth each connection a small breath left his mouth, it was like a melody. Soon your movements became erratic, your fingers moved faster, your hips grinding against him with increasing desperation.

You looked at him again now, his eyes wide as he watched you use him for yourself.

"Let go," he said, running his hand beneath the edge of your breasts and over your nipple. "I want to see you come undone, I want to watch you shatter around me."

The pleasure was building to an almost unbearable intensity, threatening to consume you entirely. His voice only maximized that, you were preparing to let go.

"I-"

At this moment he helped you, using his hips to keep your rhythm, your climax crashed over you in waves, your body clenching around him with rhythmic intensity as pleasure exploded through every nerve. You collapsed against his chest, moaning his name, raw and unrestrained, the sound bouncing off the stone walls of the chambers. Your body trembled with the force of it, your hands clutching at his shoulders.

The sensation of you tightening around him, the feel of your body surrendering completely to pleasure, shattered what remained of his control.

"Fuck..." he groaned before he began to move with desperate urgency, his hips driving upward into you with powerful thrusts. His hands gripped your waist, holding you in place as he chased his own release, his breathing ragged and broken.

"Gods," he breathed against your hair, his body moving with increasing intensity and roughness beneath you. "Oh fuck..."

His release came moments later, his body going rigid as pleasure consumed him entirely. He spilled deep within you with a gutteral mention of your name, his hips driving upward one final time before he stilled, his chest heaving with the force of his climax. His arms wrapped around you, holding you as though he might never let go.

His lips pressed soft kisses to your temple, your cheek, your shoulder, each one a wordless declaration of love.

"I love you beyond all reason and measure," he whispered against your skin, his breath warm. "I love you so profoundly it terrifies me to my very core."

"I love you." you replied, your voice muffled against his neck. You could hear his heartbeat beneath your ear, still racing but beginning to slow. "Nothing shall ever change that truth. You are mine and I am yours and that is the only truth that matters."

You stayed like that for a long time, wrapped around each other, your bodies cooling slowly in the still air of the chamber. His hands moved over your back in soothing strokes, tracing patterns on your skin. You could feel him softening against you, could feel the evidence of your joining beginning to slip from your body. Yet, neither of you moved to separate.

Eventually, you shifted to lie beside him, your head pillowed on his shoulder, his arm around you. He reached for one of the blankets and pulled it over both of you, tucking it around your shoulders. The wool was warm and soft, cocooning you both in a nest of comfort and safety.

The exhaustion of the past few days caught up with you all at once. Your eyes grew heavy, your body relaxing completely for the first time since. Every muscle that had been held tense with anxiety and fear finally released, leaving you boneless and content in his arms. Jace's breathing had already begun to even out, his chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm that preceded sleep.

You let yourself drift, secure in his arms, in this stolen moment of peace. Outside these walls, the world continued with all its demands and expectations and cruelties. The court would be gossiping about your wedding night, your mother would be planning your future as Aegon's wife and the realm would continue its inexorable march toward whatever fate awaited it.

In here, though, in this hidden alcove in the depths of the Dragonpit, you were simply yourself, simply his. The weight of duty and obligation couldn't reach you here, couldn't touch what you had created in this sacred space. Here, you were not a princess or a wife or a pawn in someone else's game. You were simply a woman who loved a man, and who was loved in return.

Taglist: @claerysa , @nutellatacollama , @glooblyglob, @staergir1 , @ragebaittheinternet

A CHILDHOOD LOVE IN WINTERFELL

Part 2!!! Click here for part 1

Jacaerys Velaryon x Cregan!sister

warmings: 18+, making out, dirty talk, oral sex (female receiving) hand job, after care, cuddles.

summary: You were betrothed to Jace when you were both children. Now, the dance of the dragons has begun, and Jace finds himself in the North, seeking your brother, Cregan Stark, and his army.

Because... There's never lived a Stark who forgot an oath and with House Stark the North will follow.

taglist: @claerysa

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I spoke to your brother." I turn around and see Jacaerys, grinning like a fool, his eyes full of love and happiness. People at Dragonstone would say Jace is cold and determined, always under pressure with being the future king of the seven kingdoms. Always stressed about his lessons; practicing High Valyrian, because how could the heir to the Iron Throne not be fluent with this language? Training with Lucerys and taking his anger out on him, and after that he's guilty about it. But here? He's different. No expectations. Only him and his beautiful girl.

The girl that was a bundle of memories from childhood. Chasing each other around the Red Keep gardens, playing with wooden swords in the backyard of Winterfell. Jacaery's hands freezing from the snow that you were used to. But you were quick enough to realize he was cold, so you took his hands in yours and placed kisses from the top of his fingertips to his wrist. He tried to shrug you off, but you could see his pink cheeks and feel his heart pounding. He always claimed that the years you spent together as children, were the best years of his life.

"About what exactly?" You say as your hands find their way on his shoulders. After the feast, the staff started cleaning the Great Hall, so you and Jace shared this one look, made sure Cregan is not watching and made your way to your chambers. Before closing the door you looked around the corridors making sure no one saw you. Because a lady with her betrothed - alone, in her chambers? That would be scandalous. If anyone saw this today, tomorrow gossip would fill Winterfell walls.

But now, the two of you, were standing in the middle of your bedroom. No space between your bodies. Moonlight filling the room, and only a few candles lighting the way to your bed.

"About you..." He says while stroking your dark curls, swirling them around his fingers. "I think he accepted me" He said with a grin.

"Oh really? What did you say to him that he suddenly accepted you?" You said teasingly, accenting this word.

His smirk grew even more, seeing you- teasing him, whispering this simple sentence against his mouth was enough for his breath to hitch.

"You would know... If only you were around us, and not dancing with those fools" He said in a whisper that made this heat pool between your legs. But you didn't give up so easily.

"I see.. Was the Prince jealous of me?"

"Can you blame me? They were looking at you like that... knowing exactly who you belong to."

"I don't see the problem my Prince.." oh, you always called him that, just to tease him, and he hated that he liked it so much. "You could dance with me...and show them that I'm yours..."

Your words were interrupted by his lips crashing into yours. Your body stood still at his eagerness, but soon your mouth started to move against his, and slowly you opened your mouth to allow his tongue to slip inside. You two never kissed like that before, but you would be lying if you said you didn't like it.

When you felt his tongue against yours, you left a muffled moan. At this sight he groaned and moved his hips against yours. Slightly, but this friction made your body burn with want.

He opened his eyes to look at you. The woman of his dreams, his love, his everything. "Soon, the whole realm will know that you are mine." He whispered against your mouth and for the first time in your life you were speechless, so you kissed him again.

Jace doesn't hesitate. The moment your lips meet his again, he surges forward- kissing you back with a hunger that's been building all night.

His hands slide up to frame your face as the kiss deepens, warm mouths moving together like they've been starved for each other. A fire crackles in the hearth nearby... casting golden light over tangled limbs and hurried breaths.

Jace backs you toward the bed—a massive four-poster draped in furs and dark velvet. The room is quiet except for the fire’s crackle and your shared breathing. He slowly lowers you into the bed and lays above you.

He breaks the kiss only to trail his lips down your jaw, then along your throat—soft, open-mouthed kisses.

One hand lifts your head to gently undo a pin in your hair; dark strands begin to fall loose around your shoulders as he works. "Beautiful" he murmurs and pecks your lips one more time.

"We don't have to do this..." He said in a hushed voice, to know that this moment belongs only to you two, no matter what decision you'll choose. "If you're not ready... we can wait for our wedding. I want this night, our first time, to be wonderful"

"It will be, my love. I want you, so bad." You say stroking his dark hair. Even darker than yours. "I dreamed of this night, about being with you like this"

He lets out a breath and smile. "If it's going to be too much, tell me."

"I promise." He's the only man that you desire for. And the only man that you'll let to see you like this.

Your hair tumbles down—silky, unbound—and Jace exhales like a man seeing something sacred. He gathers a strand between his fingers, then presses a kiss to the curve of your neck where it meets your shoulder.

The firelight dances over you both as he kisses lower: along your collarbone, then he goes higher again and he slightly bites the skin of your neck, breathing you in. Those actions make your hips push against his and you feel his hard length against you. You gasp into his mouth, your legs wrap around his waist to feel him, more and more.

One hand slips behind you to pull you flush against him while the other finds the laces of your gown—not tearing or rushing… but undoing carefully working at each tie with clumsy fingers fueled by need.

The last of your gown’s laces come undone—Jace’s fingers gentle despite his eagerness. The fabric slips from one shoulder, then the other, pooling slightly around your waist as it begins to fall. Now, you lay bare beneath him.

He pulls back just enough to look at you—the firelight gilding your bare skin, casting gold over every curve. For a heartbeat, Jace simply stares, overwhelmed by how beautiful you are.

"My beautiful girl" He says, stroking your belly with his thumbs. "Only mine"

"Jace...please" you beg, whining with need.

"Please,what? Tell me what you want, my love"

"I want to see you..." You wanted to see him bare above you, just as he sees you. You sat up and the two of you started to unbutton his cloak. You undressed him carefully, leaving kisses at his bare chest and at his throat.

Jace’s bare chest rises and falls quickly—warm, smooth skin dusted with faint scars from training. The firelight glints off the strands in his hair as he leans into you again.

This time, when your bodies press together… it’s skin to skin. No fabric left between you—not even a hint of space.

A soft gasp escapes him at the contact—the heat of you against him sending sparks through every nerve.

His hands roam: over your shoulders, down your arms… then back up to frame your face as he kisses you with slow-burning intensity—like this moment is all that exists.

And when he finally took his trousers off, you saw his hard, leaking length pressing against your tight. Your mouth was dry at the sight of him, your lips slightly parted.

"You like what you see?" He smirked and his thumb brushed your bottom lip.

You couldn't form any proper sentence, or any proper thought. He only chuckled and kissed you again.

His fingers find their way to the wetness between your legs. "Gods..." He breathed heavy. "Is this all for me?"

"Yes, only for you... Only you can make me feel like this." You say, your heart is beating fast and your hips try to grind against his hand.

His thumb brushed all the way from your clit to your core gathering your wetness. You moaned at this sensation.

He licked his lips at the sight of your juices dripping from finger. He brushed the same thumb across your lip and you shivered when you tasted yourself.

Jace grinned and continued to kiss your whole body. Every kiss was left with him whispering 'i love you' against your skin. So quiet, so soft that you started to think if it's only your imagination, but then you look up to see him, his lips slightly parted.

He stops just above the space where you need him the most and whispers: "You sure?" He still asks you even though you almost grind yourself against his mouth.

"Yes, Jace, please I-" You don't get to finish when you feel the first slow stripe of his tongue as it goes from your entrance all the way to your clit. The sound you make is so loud you hope nobody was near your chambers.

"You taste divine sweetheart" He lifts your legs to rest on his shoulders, just like he dreamed when he was alone in his own chambers in Dragonstone.

He got back to kissing your folds and your clit. He didn't let it show that he was new to this, expertly eating out, like that was his favorite activity.

His tongue circles your clit slowly and then he finally closes his lips around it and sucks. The sounds you were making, oh, the sounds were driving him insane. He learned that sucking on your pearl was making your sounds go so, so loud. Only for him to hear, only for him to enjoy. Giving you pleasure was enough for him. "Don't hold yourself back, my love. I want to hear every little sound you make."

The pressure in you kept tightening itself, his spit mixing with your own juices, his eyes never leaving yours as he lapped at you. "Come for me, my love, I want to see you come undone" he sucked at your clit over and over again, delicately teasing with the tip of his tongue.

He intertwined your hands. "Come for me, my future wife" He sucked on you, moving his head slightly and holding like that for a bit longer. That was it. Those words. You let not even a moan, but a scream of pleasure, you felt it everywhere. In every bone of your body.

Jace placed a few kisses on your stomach and now was laying inches away from your face. He pecked your lips once and rested his forehead on yours. "Are you okay? It wasn't too much?"

"No, it was perfect. I felt wonderful." You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him.

He blushed like a little boy at your words and kissed your cheek.

"I want to give you the same pleasure." You whispered against his lips.

"No, my dear. You don't have to." He said stroking his cheek, but you still felt his hard length against your entrance.

"I want to. I want to watch you come undone, just like you watched me." He looked at you, eyes dark with need, but he didn't want to push you to do something uncomfortable.

"It's just, I don't know how." You weren't embarrassed by this. You lived too many years together to be awkward next to each other. Sure, you read some romance story from the library in Winterfell. It was described simply: how to make a woman pregnant, many positions and all of that. You understood this process, but you never saw a description of only giving pleasure to a man.

"I can show you, if you want." He said softly. "But don't feel pressured to do so."

"No, please, I want this." He smiled and pushed your hair behind your ear.

"Give me your hand" he said softly, you did as he said. "Now, spit on it." You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion but after a second you obliged. Not breaking eye contact you spat on your hand. Jace's eyes went wide at this view and his cock twitched.

"Good." He whispered. "Now move your hand around me, slowly first."

You touched him for the first time. The feeling of having him around your fist made your core pulsing with need again.

After a while you speed up your movements, teasing his tip with your thumb. "You're doing so well, my wonderful girl. Just like that."

You saw his breath hitching as the pleasure increased. He tried to kiss you to muffle his moan but when your lips were just inches from his, your other thumb pressed down on his bottom lip to hear this pretty sound your boy was making.

Just a few strokes took him apart to groan into your mouth. His seed spilling into your hand and on your belly. "Gods...I've missed you so much" He kissed your cheek innocently, such a difference from the unholy things you just did.

He bent down to grab his shirt from the floor and cleaned your hand and your belly. "Jace, it's not necessary.."

"Shh, don't worry about it." You laid your hand softly on his arm and he covered both of you with a fur blanket.

"Before the feast today, I wrote to my mother" You hear Jace's voice again.

You looked up to see him, his beautiful dark eyes and those freckles that were driving you insane.

"I asked her permission to get married to you. As soon as possible. I don't want to wait anymore."

Your eyes went wide with surprise. "But.. you're at war. Is she going to allow it?"

"It's going to be a small ceremony. At Dragonstone. Just our closest family. Nothing huge."

"I've dreamed of this... Since we were kids Jacaerys. I don't want anything else just as much."

He grinned and leaned down to kiss you. "I know, my love. But now, we can finally have this. Let me return to Dragonstone soon. I will talk to Rhanerya and then we can say our vows, and be together till death separates us."

You nodded quickly. That was the best news you heard in a while. "I love you my heart, my love, my everything."

He stroked your hair softly. "I love you, my bride to be." He kissed you, no space between the two of you. Skin to skin. Soul to soul.

"I should go." He murmurs between kisses.

"But I don't want you too." You say with a sigh against his lips.

"Do you want Cregan to realize I'm not in my chambers?"

"Alright, get dressed." You quickly stood up and started collecting your clothes that were all over the floor of your bedroom. He giggled at your sudden action. The vision of your brother finding out about the two of you...

You both slowly dressed up sharing kisses after every piece of clothing. When you were finally done he stroked your cheeks and kissed you one final time.

"See you tomorrow, my love" He whispers.

"Tomorrow." You peck his lips. He made his way out of your chambers, making sure no one is nearby. He glanced at you and winked, just like you did earlier. When the door finally closed you collapsed and sighed with overwhelming joy.

Every word he said, every move of his fingers, his mouth on you... This memory of him still replaying in your head.

When you try to sleep, you only find yourself wanting more and more of him. You could never get enough of Jacaerys Velaryon, the boy who stole your heart, and the man who still keeps it.

jaacaerysvelaryon

the weight of dreams - part two

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x stark!reader, stark!reader x guard!oc! daniel

you can find the masterlist here!

summary: you’re the only daughter of rickon stark, the warden of the north. when he bends the knee to queen rhaenyra, he plans on keeping that vow… but then, aegon ii usurps the throne and the crown prince, jacaerys velaryon, comes to winterfell to secure the north’s allegiance to the queen. your father intends to offer your hand in marriage to prince jace, as he is unaware that you are in love with daniel, your childhood friend and guard… until you meet jacaerys in person, and everything turns on its head.

word count: 2.9k.

warnings: slightly emotional infidelity again, reader wants to have her cake and eat it too but also feels insanely guilty about it, a lot of emotion in this part. ANGST!!! mention of lucerys being attacked but i kept him alive bc i make the rules here! a KISS???? a kinda cliffhanger ending. 18+ only, smut in future parts.

note: i’m having so much fun writing this! thanks for all the likes and reblogs on the first part! 🖤 pacing in this fic is incredibly fast and you may get whiplash from the readers erratic behavior. stick with it — i promise it all pays off in the end. there is a lot more to come with this work. everything you’re reading will make sense if you stick with it.

dawn did not bring the quiet shift of the guard you had prayed for. instead, it brought a horn blast from the watchtowers that shattered the early morning stillness. just after, you heard the unmistakable, heavy thud of massive talons hitting the stone of the courtyard.

before you and daniel could even clear the servant’s corridor beneath the great hall, cregan’s voice boomed through the lower levels, barking orders to the household guard.

“the dragon is restless!” daniel hissed, pulling you into the shadow of a stone archway. his hand was a vice around your wrist, his eyes wide with sudden panic. “the targaryen boy is already up. he’s in the courtyard. the yard is crawling with men, we can’t get to the stables without someone seeing.”

“he is a prince, daniel. not a boy.”

indebtedto-you

The Price I'd Pay for You

Jacaerys Valeryon

jacaerys velaryon x forbiddenlove!reader

A story of forbidden love, political intrigue, and the impossible choice between the duty you were born to and the life you were meant to have.

chapter 5 word count: 5772

notes: This is a long one folks. As I stated in the first chapter, I have had most of this written already in a private doc. But now that I have it posted I'm rereading it and I am realizing that a lot of things are not how I wish them to be so I've been heavily editing and rewriting. After this chapter please expect delays. Also omg poor reader she is going through it this chapter. I'd also totally love to discuss character depth with yall in the comments, if you pick up on anything that is not deliberately said please let me know I'd love to know your opinions :D

Chapter 5

Sleep had seemed impossible, the rain that stirred you from your bed was just an excuse to finally rise. You hadn't really slept, your mind in and out of consciousness, nerves and heartbreak waking you every few minutes.

Lighting a candle that had already burned itself to its stub you sat at your window, the rain drummed against it, steady and relentless. As if the sky itself was weeping for you. You couldn't help the hot sting that filled your eyes as you imagined this to be a nightmare. That you would wake up and find yourself back in time, back when you were just ten years old and Jace was just your favorite person in the world.

Today, you would marry your brother.

Three months had passed since your nameday, since the announcement of your betrothal. Three months of your mother asking your opinion on flowers and food and linen. Three months of secret moments with Jace that felt like trying to breath underwater, desperate, suffocating. Three months of watching your life close around you like a fist.

"Princess?" A soft knock at the door. "it's time to being preparations."

You closed your eyes and took a breath, how long had you sat here, staring at the droplets of rain that cascaded down your window pane? Not long enough.

"Come," you said.

The handmaiden's flooded into your chambers like a tide, bringing with them the scent of rosewater and lavender, carrying armfuls of silk and lace. They moved around you with ease and efficiency, replacing your candles, drawing back the curtains that had lain shut for days, laying out your wedding gown with reverent care.

The dress was a masterpiece. You'd seen it being constructed over the past weeks, watched as seamstresses labored over every stitch, every bead, every thread of gold embroidery. Ivory silk that shimmered like moonlight, overlaid with Myrish lace so fine it looked like spiderweb. The bodice was fitted with tiny pearls, the sleeves long and flowing, the train was so long it would take two attendants to carry it behind you.

It was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen.

It made you want to scream...

"Into the bath, my lady," one of the handmaidens said, gently guiding you toward the copper tub that had been filled with steaming water.

You let them undress you, let them run the water over your shoulders and neck, let them wash your hair with oils that smelled of jasmine and orange. You sat there like a childrens doll being prepared for display.

Your mind wandered helplessly to Jace, where was he right now? In his chambers? In the garden? Was he preparing himself? Had he decided to attend and torture himself? You'd barely seen him these past months except in small, stolen moments, that felt like dying and being reborn all at once.

You'd found him in the library after midnight. You'd sent him a message, a book left on a specific shelf, a ribbon marking a particular page. Your secret code. When you'd slipped through the door he had already been standing there by the window, silhouetted against the moonlight.

"Jace," you'd whispered.

He'd turned, the look on his face had nearly broken you. Anguish and longing and love so fierce it hurt to witness. You'd crossed the room and kissed him desperately. Your hands fisting in his tunic pulling him close, but it was never close enough.

"I dream of you," he'd whispered against your lips. "Every night I dream of you and palm trees and sand so golden it looks unreal."

"I dream of you too my Prince," you'd whispered back and then you'd kissed him again because words weren't enough for how desperately you craved him.

"Princess, it's time to dry your hair."

The handmaiden's voice pulled you back to the present. You stood, water sluicing off your skin. You let them wrap you in soft linen before they sat you at the fire and began combing through your hair, working out every tangle with patient care.

You mother arrived not soon after they had finished braiding your hair into an elaborate crown. She looked resplendent in deep green velvet, the seven pointed star glittering at her throat. She dismissed the handmaidens with a wave of her hand and then suddenly you were alone with her.

"You look beautiful," she said, studying your reflection in the mirror.

"Thank you, mother."

Your voice sounded hollow even to your own ears. Alicent's expression softened slightly, something that might have been sympathy if you'd believed she could feel such an emotion.

"I know this is difficult for you," she said quietly, her hand resting on your shoulder. "You are doing what is right. What is necessary. Not only for our families future but for the realm. This marriage will strengthen our position, will-"

"Will make me miserable for the rest of my life," you finished.

Your mothers jaw tightened only slightly, her eyes growing wide. "Happiness is a luxury we cannot afford, you are a princess, you have a duty to your house, to your family, to the realm."

"What about duty to myself?" The words escaped before you could stop them. "What about what I want?"

"What you want is irrelevant." Her voice was sharp, cutting. "You will marry Aegon, you will be a good wife to him, you will bear his children and support his claim and you will do so with dignity and grace as befits your station."

Her grip was firm now on your shoulder, almost painful.

"I know you will miss him," she said and you blood turned to oil. "Whatever you had with the boy ends today. Do you understand me? Whatever foolish infatuation you've harbored, it ends when you speak your vows."

You stared at her reflection in the mirror, unable to speak. You didn't even know how to feel, you just felt empty, unreal.

"You loyalty in the past and now belongs to the crown, your future belongs to the crown and your children will belong to the crown." She paused. "If I hear even a whisper of impropriety, if there is even a hint of scandal with the Valeryon boy, I will make sure he is sent so far from King's Landing he'll never find his way back here. Do I make myself clear?"

You could feel it again, the burning in your eyes, the torturous feeling of your chest caving in. You wanted to kick and scream and run as fast as you could to anywhere but here.

"Yes, mother."

She studied you for a long moment, watched how your nails dug into the polished wood of your chair, how your eyelids turned pink with the feeling of grief.

"Good, now the handmaidens will finish preparing you. The court is waiting."

She swept from the room leaving you alone with your reflection and the crushing weight of her threat.

The handmaiden's returned and began dressing you immediately. The chemise first, thin silk that felt like nothing against your skin. The underskirts next, layer upon layer of fabric. Then the gown itself, lifted carefully over your head, the silk whispering as it settled around you.

They laced you in, pulling the bodice tight until you could barely draw a breath. They fastened your sleeves, adjusted the train, placed the veil of lace over your hair. Finally, they hung jewels at your throat and wrists, diamonds and pearls that caught the light like tears. When you were finally finished being prepared you looked at yourself in the mirror. You looked like a queen, like something from a song. Everything a princess should be on her wedding day. Except you were marrying the wrong man.

You looked like a beautiful lie.

"It's time, Princess," one of your handmaidens said softly.

Your father was waiting for you in the great hall, he looked more sickly by the day, his face drawn pale. Yet he smiled when he saw you.

"My daughter," he said taking you hand. "You look radiant."

"Thank you, father."

He tucked your hand into the crook of his arm and began walking you through the corridors of the Red Keep. Your train whispered behind you, carried by two young girls who'd been chosen for the honor. Servants and courtiers stopped to watch as you passed, bowing their heads.

You felt like you were walking to your death.

The rain had stopped by the time you reached the Great Sept of Baelor, yet the sky remained gray and heavy with clouds. The sept's bells were ringing across King's Landing, announcing to the entire city that a royal wedding was taking place.

Inside, the sept was packed with nobles. Above you thousands of candles blazed filling the air with the scent of beeswax and incense. The stained glass windows cast colored light across the floor, red and blue and green and gold, like scattered jewels.

The High Septon waited at the altar in his crystal crown and beside him stood Aegon. Your husband to be wore black and gold, the three-headed dragon embroidered across his chest. His silver hair had been carefully arranged, his face composed into an expression of solemn duty. When your eyes met his, you saw resignation.

The musicians began to play and your father started walking you down the aisle. Each step felt like wading through deep water, the weight of everyone's eyes in the sept held you down like stones. You could hear the whispers. The murmurs of approval and disapproval, the comments about how beautiful you looked or didn't, how perfect this union would be or how it would tear down the realm.

You'd met him in the gardens, you told your ladies in waiting that you needed a moment alone. Then you slipped through a gap in the rose hedge, he was waiting on the other side.

"We can't keep doing this," you'd said, even as you moved into his arms. "My ladies, they are growing weary of me-"

He'd kissed you then, cutting off your words. You melted against him, his hands had tangled in your hair, ruining the careful arrangement your handmaidens had spent an entire hour perfecting. You loved it.

"I love you," he'd whispered against you cheek before placing another delicate peck to your skin.

"I love you," you whispered back. "All of me loves you."

Now, walking down the aisle towards another man, you felt that memory like a knife in your chest. Your throat felt tight like it was choking you before you could finish the rest. Before you could walk up the steps to your new husband.

You reached the altar, your father released your arm and stepped back. Standing beside Aegon now you could feel the heat of his body, you could smell the wine on his breath.

The High Septon began to speak, his voice echoing through the sept.

"We gather here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of Prince Aegon Targaryen and Princess X Targaryen. This marriage represents the continuation of the Targaryen bloodline, the strength of our dynasty and the promise of stability for years to come."

The words washed over you like waves. You heard them, yet they didn't feel real, nothing felt real, this was happening to someone else, some other girl in a silk dress.

"Prince Aegon," the High Septon said, turning to your brother. "Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, until death parts you?"

Aegon's jaw clenched and for a heartbeat you thought he might refuse, might say no and walk away. Free you both from this nightmare.

"I do," he said, voice flat.

The High Septon turned to you and your throat closed. Your eyes looked anywhere but him or Aegon, the hem of your dress, the patterns lacing Aegon's jacket, your hands clasped together.

"Princess, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, to love, honor and obey, until death parts you?"

The air left your lungs. In the back of the sept you could feel Jace's gaze on you, brown soft eyes pleading you.

Don't say it, he begged. Please don't say it.

Yet, you had no choice, you never had a choice. Not on your eighteenth nameday, not at seventeen or sixteen or twelve or ten. This was your duty.

You'd found him in the dragonpit one night, standing alone beside Vermax. You'd run to him and he'd caught you in his arms holding you so tightly you could barely breathe. That didn't bother you. You ran your fingers across his shoulder and pressed your lips to the side of his neck.

"How do we survive this?" you'd asked against his skin, your voice breaking.

"Together," he'd said. "However we can, whatever it takes."

You'd kissed him desperately, pouring everything you couldn't say into that kiss, all your love, all your desperation, all your grief.

"I do," you whispered.

The words felt like poison on your tongue, like a knife in Jace's chest, like the death of everything you'd ever wanted.

The High Septon smiled. "Then by the power vested in me by the Faith of the Seven, I declare you husband and wife. May the gods bless this union."

"You may kiss your bride," he spoke to Aegon.

Aegon turned to you and for a moment you just looked at each other, Two prisoners in the same cage from birth. Then he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, a brief, perfunctory kiss that meant nothing and everything at the same time.

The sept erupt in applause. You were now married, truly, legally, irrevocably married. Bound to your brother by vows spoken before the gods and men. Your hope had been crushed like muddled herbs, ground up and dead.

Aegon offered you his arm and you took it, letting him lead you back down the steps and down the aisle. The nobles cheered and threw flower petals above your heads, you smiled and nodded and played your part even though inside, you were dying.

The wedding feast was held in the great hall which had been transformed into something out of a dream. Heat radiated from the candles suspended above in iron chandeliers, their flames dancing across the vaulted ceilings. The scent of melted wax was mingled with roasted meats, spiced wine and the cloying sweetness of flowers arranged in towering displays along every surface. Musicians in the gallery played a relentless waltz, their strings and pipes weaving together into a sound that felt less like music and more like they were commanding the walls to close in.

Tables groaned beneath the weight of endless food, roasted pheasant and glazed ham, towers of fruit and honeycakes, goblets of wine that servants refilled before you could empty them. Nobles in their finest silks and jewels moved through the space, their minds already taken by malmsey.

The heat was suffocating, sweat gathered at the base of your spine, beneath layers of silk and brocade that suddenly felt like chains. The noise pressed against you from all sides, the scrape of chairs, the clink of goblets, the endless murmur of voices raised in toasts to your union, or rather to their endless night of food and drink.

Every piece of sensation you felt was like another lock turning, another door closing.

You sat at the high table beside Aegon, your face arranged in the perfect expression of a dutiful bride, while inside you fractured into smaller and smaller pieces. Lord after lord came to offer his and hers congratulations, your face began to ache from holding a smile and your chest ached from holding back tears.

"The first dance belongs to the bride and room," the herald announced.

Aegon stood and offered you his hand, you took it and let him lead you onto the floor. The song was slow, his hand settled on your waist as yours settled on his shoulder. You'd danced with Aegon before, at feasts and other celebrations, this was different. This was nothing like ignorant fun you had as a child dancing to a song with your brothers and cousins.

Around you, the court watched and whispered and smiled. Somewhere in the crowd Jace was watching too, you could feel his gaze on you like a physical touch.

You'd passed him in the corridor outside of the throne room just two days ago. Guards and ladies in waiting flanked you, there had been no privacy for you in what had felt like forever. As you'd drawn level with him, he'd murmured in High Valyrian, so soft only you could here as he passed you like a ghost.

"Avy jorrāelan." I love you.

Your eyes instantly seeked the ground, as you walked you watched the cracks and crevices in the stone. You could almost feel his arms around you as you repeated the words over and over in your mind.

"You're trembling," Aegon said, pulling you back to the present.

"I'm fine," you said autmatically.

"You're a terrible liar."

Jace used to say that to you all the time.

Aegon spun you and when you came back to him, his grip tightened slightly. "I don't want this either, you know. In case you were wondering or cared to speak to me about it."

You looked up at him, startled by the sudden confession. You would admit you had been avoiding him since the betrothal, avoiding eye contact and leaving rooms when he entered. You wanted nothing to do with him until the very moment when you had no choice.

"I- I know." You stuttered because you didn't know, you barely had a clue other than Aegon's inept speech on the night of your eighteenth nameday.

"Do you?" His jaw clenched. "Do you know that I had my own life? My own... preferences? That I am giving all of that up because mother decided I need to marry my own sister to keep our bloodline pure?"

You stared at him, realizing for the first time that Aegon has his own form of heartbreak, his own trap. Recognition bloomed slowly, painfully. You thought about how his face had gone rigid that day, how his hands had turned white as he gripped the tables edge.

You'd been consumed by your own devastation that you'd barely registered his own loss.

"Aegon... I'm sorry I-"

"It's fine..." He paused. "We're both prisoners here, shackled together. The only difference is that I've accepted it."

The music swelled around you, other couples had joined the dance now, filling the floor with feet.

Your eyes met Aegons, he knew you were having a hard time. These last three months you have had ample opportunity to speak about this with him and yet you haven't. Using everyday to hold your grievances alone or with Jace in stolen moments.

Neither of you said anything else. The final notes of the waltz faded, he stepped back and bowed formally, releasing you from his arms. You stood there on the dance floor, pulse racing, as he walked away leaving you to your thoughts.

The rest of the feast passed in a blur, you danced with other partners, smiled at congratulations, played your part perfectly.

You caught glimpses of Jace throughout the night, he stood with his mother and brother, his face carefully blank. Yet, you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides.

You'd met him in the servants corridors late one night when the castle was mostly asleep.

"Jace-" your words sounded breathless as he turned to you, a soft, painful smile on his face.

He pulled you into the alcove he stood in, pressing you against the wall and kissing you with an urgency that stole you breath and made heat pool between your legs.

"I can't do this," he'd whispered, lips grazing your ear. "I can't watch you marry him. I can't-"

"Shh," you'd whisper back, pressing your cheek to his. "Shh, it will be okay."

It wouldn't be okay. You were terrified. Terrified of the separation from the boy that you grew up with, that you loved, that you let take you in bed and make you his. But, you couldn't tell him that. You couldn't tell him how scared you really were, how your heart was splintering with each second that passed. So instead you held him, your fingers tracing the lines of his shoulders and spine, memorizing the feel of him because you didn't know when you'd have this again.

His hands felt hot as they framed your face now. In the dim light, you could see his face was flush, his bottom lip pouted, he was trying to be brave for you.

"I love you, all of me."

"All of me." You achoed.

Now, across the crowded hall, his eye found yours. The look on his face made something in your chest clench. You wanted to go to him and tell him that everything would be okay, you wanted to promise that this wasn't the end for you. But, you had already made promises to each other and they went unfulfilled. Anything promised now would only be a lie.

As the feast wound down, your mother appeared at your elbow.

"It is time, Princess," she said quietly.

Your stomach dropped. The bedding ceremony. The consummation. The final, irrevocable step that would make you Aegon's wife.

"Come now," Alicent said, gently taking you arm in hers.

She led you from the Great Hall, followed by a procession of ladies. They escorted you through the corridors of the Red Keep, up the stairs, to the chambers that would now be considered yours and Aegon's. It was larger than your old room, dominated by a massive bed with posts carved with dragons. Candles burned on every surface. A fire crackled in the hearth. Everything had been prepared for you, for Aegon, for this moment.

All you could think was that it should've been Jace.

The ladies began undressing you with practiced efficiency. They unlaced your gown, removed your jewels, unpinned your hair. Layer by layer they stripped away your wedding finery until you stood in nothing but a thin shift of white silk. You arms wrapped around yourself as you stood uncomfortable, it felt like you were already naked.

One of the ladies brought you a cup of wine. "To calm your nerves, Princess."

You drank it, grateful for the warmth that spread through your chest. No amount of wine could calm the panic rising in your throat though, it was hard to fathom what was about to happen to you.

"You look beautiful, Princess," one of the ladies said, adjusting your shift. "Prince Aegon is a fortunate man."

You wanted to laugh, or scream, or both.

They led you to the edge of the bed and had you sit, your mother stepped forward and placed her hand on your shoulder.

"It will be over before you know it daughter, wear your new title as wife graciously."

Then, she swept from the room, bringing the other ladies with her. The door closed behind them with a soft click and suddenly you were alone. You sat there, on the edge of the bed, and tried to remember how to draw breath. Your pulse was pounding so hard you thought it might break through your ribs. The chamber was deathly quiet, all except for the fire crackling and your own breath as you tried to catch it.

You stared at the door, waiting, dreading, knowing what was coming for you.

Time passed, it felt strange, like elastic. Then the door opened and Aegon stepped inside, still dressed in his wedding clothes. He closed the door behind him and stood there for a moment, just looking at you.

"You look... terrified," he said finally, though the words came out slurred and loose, his head tilting at an odd angle as he studied you. He swayed slightly, catching himself against the doorframe with a soft laugh. "Or maybe that's just... that's just the candlelight. Everything's so candlelit today... Weird."

He moved toward the table where a pitcher of wine sat, his gait unsteady. His fingers fumbled with the cup nearly dropping it before managing to pour. Wine sloshed over the rim and onto the table, he stared at it with the bewildered expression of a man who couldn't quite tell if he poured it into his cup or on the table.

"Blast," he muttered, than drank deeply from what remained in the vessel. He poured another immediately, as though the first had never happened. "Want some? It's very good wine. Excellent wine! The best wine in all of Westeros I'd wager."

"I've already had some," you said quietly.

"Have more." He brought you the cup, moving with exaggerated care, as though navigating treacherous waters. He nearly tripped over his own feet, droplets of wine spilling over onto the floor, before catching himself with a surprised laugh. "The floor is very... slippery, have you noticed that?"

You took the cup from his outstretched hand and he watched you drink with the intense focus of someone trying to solve a particularly difficult riddle. His eyes were glassy, his cheeks flushed with wine and warmth.

"You know what's funny?" he said, sitting beside you, the mattress dipped under his weight. "This whole thing, us, getting married. It's absolutely mad when you think about it..." He laughed, a loose, rambling sound that echoed off the stone walls.

He drank again, deeply, then gestured at you with his cup, sloshing wine dangerously close to the edge once again. "At least you're pretty. Has anyone told you that? You're very, very pretty. Like a painting." He closed an eye and waved his hands in a circle to encompass your face.

"A very... Serious painting." His nose scrunched, "one that looks like it might cry at any moment."

At that moment you took the cup from his hand and guzzled the last of what remain, your face curling in on itself after swallowing. Aegon watched you as it burned your throat and stomach when it settled there. He took the cup from you and put it aside.

"Right then," he said, his tone matter of fact. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"

You nodded, not trusting your voice. You feared if you spoke, if you had spoken at all you would turn into that crying painting.

Then he kissed you.

It wasn't like kissing Jace, there was no passion, no desperation, no sense of rightness. Just... Duty. A task to be completed, a box to check.

He never removed your shift, Aegon's gaze traveled over you, a glassy sense of regret and sadness.

"Lie down," he said.

You obeyed, your pulse pounding as you lay back against the pillows. Aegon undressed with the efficiency of an armless Prince, then climbed over you and settled between your legs. It was over quickly, mechanical, dutiful, and mercifully brief. He finished with a grunt, rolled on to his back and reached immediately for his wine cup.

Silence filled the chamber.

You lay there, staring at the canopy, feeling the wrongness of it all. Aegon sat up next to you, swirling his wine, his eyes glazing over the sheets for only a split moment before his expression shifted from confusion to understanding to something that might have been dark amusement.

He turned to look at you, his eyes sharp despite the wine and let out a short, humorless laugh.

"So the rumors are true then," he said, his words beginning to slur slightly. "You weren't a maiden after all. You absolute-" He hiccupped. "You absolute legend."

You wanted to deny it, to lie, to say something, anything, yet the words wouldn't come. Your throat had closed up long ago.

"Jacaerys Velaryon," Aegon continued, gesturing dramatically with his cup and nearly spilling it once more. "The one you've been making eyes at since we were children. Gods, I always knew it, with the whispers and gossip. The two of you were always sneaking off together." He paused, squinting at you with genuine curiosity. "I just thought you were being tediously noble, not-" Another hiccup. "Not fucking in secret. That's actually brilliant. Genuinely brilliant."

Tears burned behind your eyes, you couldn't look at him, the canopy above had doves holding pieces of greenery. When Aegon spoke again, though, his voice had lost its edge entirely, replaced by something almost warm.

"Relax, wife," he said, his tone turning conspiratorial. "I'm not about to run screaming to mother about it. I'm impressed that you two idiots actually pulled it off." He took another long drink and grinned at you. "A Princess, MY sister losing her maidenhood before marriage."

You finally found your voice, though it came out as barely a whisper. "What happens now?"

Aegon was quiet for a moment, swirling the wine in his cup with exaggerated concentration. Then he sighed.

"Look," he said, his tone more serious now, though still decidedly drunk. "You think I wanted to be shackled to my own sister? To give up everything I enjoy because mother is obsessed with putting me on the throne?" He shook his head, nearly losing his balance. "We're both prisoners here. The only difference is I've had longer to accept it and more wine to cope with it."

You stared at him, not understanding where this was going.

"I'm thinking," Aegon continued, leaning back against the headboard and gesturing with his cup again. "In public, you play the dutiful wife. You smile, you're gracious, you stand by my side at court. You give me heirs, because we'll need them of course, there's no avoiding that. In private, though..." He met your eyes, his expression surprisingly sincere despite the wine. "In private, you can do whatever, or whoever, you want. As long as you're discreet about it."

Your pulse was pounding so hard you thought it might burst. "What?"

"You can keep seeing him," Aegon said bluntly, then laughed. "Jace. Your noble bastard. I don't care. Fuck him in every corner of the Red Keep for all I care, just don't make it obvious enough that people start to notice." He paused, taking another drink. "In exchange, you don't ask questions about where I go or what I do. You let me have my freedom too."

You felt like you were drowning. "Your freedom?"

"Like fucking," Aegon said flatly, then giggled, actually giggled, at his own bluntness. "Whores, they are... Far more entertaining than anything I'll find in this marriage bed, no offense. Now that I'm a married man, though, Mother will expect me to be faithful, to be proper, to stop 'embarrassing the family.'" He made a disgusted sound and took another drink. "I'm not giving that up. So here's the arrangement: you get to keep your tragic love affair with Jace, and I get to keep visiting the Street of Silk without you weeping to mother about it. We both get what we want."

It felt surreal. Like a trap disguised as mercy.

"Why would you do this?" you asked, your voice shaking.

"Because I'm not interested in making both our lives miserable," Aegon said with a shrug, his words slurred.

You stared at him, at this man who was now your husband, offering you a lifeline while thoroughly drunk.

"The sheets," you said, your voice barely audible. "In the morning, they'll be examined-"

"Oh, the sheets!" Aegon exclaimed, as if you'd just reminded him of something terribly important. He stood up, swayed slightly, then made his way to the table with exaggerated care. He picked up a small knife that had been left with the fruit and cheese, studied it with the concentration of a scholar examining ancient texts, then pressed the blade to his palm and drew it across with a grunt.

Blood welled up immediately as he made his way back to the bed, giggling to himself about something, and let several drops fall onto the sheets with the precision of a man performing a sacred ritual. Then he wrapped his hand in a cloth and held it up like he'd just accomplished something magnificent.

"There," he said, grinning at you. "Problem solved. As far as anyone knows, you were a proper maiden and I did my duty. Brilliant, really. We're both geniuses." He paused, then added with drunken sincerity, "Our secret. Yours, mine, and Jace's."

You stared at the blood on the sheets.

"Do we have a deal?" he asked, extending his uncut hand toward you like sealing a pact.

You thought of Jace. Of the possibility of still having him, still touching him, still loving him, even if it had to be in secret for the rest of your lives, even if it had to be shadowed by this marriage.

"Yes," you said. "We have a deal."

Aegon nodded, satisfied, then flopped backward onto the bed with a contented sigh. "Good. Now let's both try to get some sleep. We've got a long, tedious life ahead of us, and I'm going to have a spectacular headache in the morning."

He was snoring within moments, his breathing evening out quickly as exhaustion and wine pulled him under.

You lay awake beside him, your unexpected ally. He wasn't kind, nor noble, yet surprisingly he was not cruel. He was just a man trapped in the same cage, trying to survive the only way he knew how, with wine, whores, and sardonic detachment.

You carefully slid out of bed, your legs shaking, you found your robe, wrapping it around yourself and moved to the window. The city was dark, most of its lights extinguished. Dawn was still hours away. You pressed your forehead against the cool glass and closed your eyes.

You knew Jace lay in his bed awake as well. You knew it with the same certainty you knew your own name. He was thinking of you, imagining this night, torturing himself with images of you and Aegon. You wanted to go to him, to run through the corridors to his chambers and throw yourself into his arms, to lay with him and rest peacefully.

So you sat at the window and whispered into the darkness.

"Kesrio syt mirre tubis. Kesrio syt mirre bantis." For all days. For all nights.

Taglist: @claerysa , @nutellatacollama , @glooblyglob , @staergir1 , @ragebaittheinternet

sylasthegrim

An Ember in the Ashes ✢ Chapter 2

Pairing ✢ King Jacaerys x Targtower Reader

Tags ✢ post-Dance, grief/mourning, arranged marriage/political marriage, enemies to lovers, falling in love, eventual romance, eventual smut, angst with a happy ending

Wordcount ✢ 3,745

Summary ✢ Jacaerys is crowned king as his mother perishes from her wounds shortly after retaking the Iron Throne. He makes a match with you, the last daughter of King Viserys and Alicent Hightower, to secure peace and rebuild the Targaryen dynasty.

Series Masterlist

Chapter Two ✢ Sealed in Blood

The valley of the Kingswoods was plunged into near darkness even though it was the mid-morrow, the sky low and heavy, thick clouds coming in from the Narrow Sea, brought by the sharp winds that danced with the tide.

Near the edge of the cliff, where Jacaerys had learned Queen Aemma and Prince Baelon had been put to rest as well, two pyres were waiting, side by side like allies, when in truth they had been foes. Under the blanket of this dark sky, Aegon and Rhaenyra would bid farewell one last time and returned to ashes, to be buried together. While the gesture weighed heavily on Jace’s mind, he knew it was the right one if he wished to be known as a merciful, peaceful ruler.

This time there would be no dragon upon the hill to cast its fire—Rhaena’s Morning was still too small, and the only grown dragon that remained, Silverwing, was riderless once more. The Council had made a suggestion, that perhaps Jace could travel to Dragonstone and attempt to claim her, to add a strong symbol of legitimacy to the start of his reign, but the prospect of riding another than Vermax made him nauseous.

At his side where Lucerys and Joffrey ought to have been, Jacaerys was instead escorted by Cregan Stark and Baela, who had made the journey from Driftmark, taking the risk to leave her grandsire so close to the Stranger’s door. While those were the two people he trusted more than anyone in this world, the absence of his brothers ached fiercely, as much as the loss of his mother.

rottenbites

DOES IT HURT? • JACAERYS VELARYON

vermax wasn’t too kind to jace on his recent ride, leaving his betrothed to remedy the stoic prince

content warnings: fem!reader, major fluff, jace trying to act tough

“it’s not as bad as it looks.”

a rough sigh tore from your lips at jace’s words, your arms crossed against your chest as you stared at the man you were to wed in only a moons time. ‘how can someone so gallant be so stupid’, you thought, eyes roving over the torn collar of jace’s doublet and the long scratch that started below the tip of his ear and ran down towards his collarbones.

scratching the back of his neck in an awkward dance, jace momentarily bit his lip, attempting to find the words in his throat as you silently motioned a servant girl to go fetch a maester. “vermax swooped too close to a rocky cliff.” a tinge in your heart sent ripples of shockwaves through your body, a small glimpse of fear inching its way into your bones at the thought of jace having an accident on dragon back. “my neck caught the brunt of it, but i’m okay, my love! no need for a maester.”

you couldn’t help the warmth that spread through your body at his quick dismissal of attendance. jace was always tough — sometimes too tough, and you believed it stemmed from the fact that he was the eldest of five boys. he wanted to be a guiding light for his younger brothers, not a weak boy who couldn’t handle himself. it was adorable, but the cut was starting to blossom with blood, and you knew that help was definitely in need.

“a maester is definitely needed, jace.” your voice held a softness to its lilt that had your betrothed’s eyes softening, his hands almost reaching out to grasp at you. though he pulled away, seeing your rigid nature and the ever-consuming fear that still rattled deep inside of you. jace knew you needed time to cool down, and if that time would be taken up with a healer tending to, in his opinion, small wound, than he’d allow it.

with a sigh, jace allowed the touch of maester gerardys on his skin, the oldtown healer cleaning and rubbing balms on the torn skin. a couple of times you saw jace’s face turn up in discomfort, but he always snapped it away before you could make a comment, lamenting on the fact that he was more tough than he looked.

your hand was firmly clasped in his, and all though jace stated that he didn’t need your comfort, you still felt the way his hand clung onto yours, clenching and squeezing when a certain cleansing agent stung too greatly. you would always squeeze back, even once placing a delicate kiss on his cheek that left the velaryon man blushing like a boy of only one and ten.

as maester gerardys finishes up his work, reminding jace to add a certain salve to the broken skin once every night until it heals, you stare pointedly at your soon-to-be husband, eyes conveying your emotions as jace silently thanks the healer, biting his lip once more as the grand oak doors of his chamber closes in a withering groan.

“what did i say, you fool.” the words come out jokingly, yet jace can hear the seriousness behind them. “look at how well dressed the wound is. now you won’t get infected and die.”

jace barks out a laugh, turning to look at you as your eyes comically widen in horror. “my love, it was a minor scratch. no infection would come to harm me.” a dazzling smile bracketed his lips, making a similar blush to jace’s previous cherry hue blooming on your cheeks. his smile was dazzling, a wave of sunshine passing across his face. “you were worried about me, weren’t you?”

a tight scoff tore from your lips, your hand wrenching out of jace’s as he grinned at you with a cheeky smirk. crossing your arms over your chest for a second time, you stared at him from up your nose, trying your best to look as defiant as possible. “i wasn’t worried, you idiot.” you couldn’t help the softening of your eyes, the thought of jace’s injuries turning grave sinking into your brain like a gnarled wound. “i was absolutely terrified.”

a pout danced its way into jace’s face, his eyes alighting with emotion as he looked over your slight fear stricken face. “don’t be scared, my love. i’m right here. that’s all that matters.”

you smiled at jace, fingers lifting to smooth down the bandaged skin of his neck. a small end of marred skin peaked out from the dressing, the pads of your pointer dancing across it gently. jace grimaced a bit, hand shooting out to grip your thigh in comfort. “does it hurt?” you asked softly, silently praying that your dear prince wasn’t in any pain. he already had to go through so much emotionally being rhaenyra’s bastard, and you didn’t want a physical wound to muddle with his already inner turmoil.

“doesn’t hurt at all.” jace puffed out his chest, letting go of the pressure on your thigh so he could leave a soft pat on the supple skin. you only grinned at him knowingly, understanding that he was putting up a facade to seem more tough around his darling betrothed.

“aww,” you cooed, reaching out to pat his cheek. his skin was warm beneath your touch, and you had to stop yourself from leaning forward and kissing the sharp bone that laid there. “don’t need me to kiss it better than?”

it was comical how wide jace’s eyes widened, his demeanour turning rigid as you only smirked at him knowingly. slowly turning his head to look at you, jace pouted his lips again, yet this time, it was out of need instead of mock. “i lied,” he rushed out, jutting his neck towards you until his jaw was right by your nose. “it hurts so bad, darling. kiss it better, please?”

you only laughed, leaning forward and leaving a lingering kiss on the unwrapped end of jace’s scar. tentatively, your tongue reached out and licked the wounded skin, feeling a shudder wrack through jace’s body at the movement.

“gods above,” jace breathed, reaching out to grab your chin. he pulled your face up and away from his neck, pressing his forehead against yours with a tender love only this certain prince could procure. “you’re going to be the death of me.”

with that he smashed his lips against yours, cementing your love into his lips and the way his heart beat wildly and freely for you and only you alone.

taglist: @silkaurum @pinkdoeweirdo @hsudiqkkuhe @el-anythingrlly @lustedbby @userhotd @faesspace

jaacaerysvelaryon

the weight of dreams - part one

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x stark!reader, stark!reader x guard oc, daniel

word count: 3.2k.

note: reader, daniel and jace are all 18+! in this fic aegon has usurped the throne, but i’m changing canon a bit to keep rickon stark alive, making him warden of the north when jace flies to winterfell to create the pact of ice and fire. i am keeping that the pact included jace wedding rickon’s daughter, only in this fic it isn’t bastard sara snow, but a legitimate daughter of rickon and gilliane. oc!daniel’s face claim is daniel wagner from greta van fleet, and the fanfic title is the name of one of their songs <33 collage made by me, pics are from pinterest, if they’re yours then fullll creds to you!!

warnings: none really for this part, maybe a bit of emotional infidelity if you squint, but this fic is still 18+. smut in future parts.

the heavy ironwood doors of the great hall did little to keep out the biting chill, but today the cold felt as though it were seeping directly into your bones. high above you, the pale winter sun peered through the narrow frost rimmed windows, casting long dark shadows across the stone floor of winterfell.

at the end of the hall sat your father, the warden of the north. rickon stark. your relationship with him had always been unyielding, built on duty rather than affection. he viewed his children more as pieces to secure the north’s survival rather than his own flesh and blood.

indebtedto-you

The Price I'd Pay for You

Jacerys Velaryon

jacaerys velaryon x forbiddenlove!reader

A story of forbidden love, political intrigue, and the impossible choice between the duty you were born to and the life you were meant to have.

genre/warnings: suggestive content, 18+ minors do not interact! childhood friends to lovers, forbidden love, yearning and longing and all the things that make something desirable to read. // suggestive content, angst, fluff, familial sexual relationships, its GOT universe you know the vibe.

chapter 4 word count: 2862

notes: I have genuinely read this chapter over and over again and I actually don't even like it anymore LOL I need to post it before I try to rewrite it from scratch. Enjoy!

Chapter 4

Your handmaidens dressed you in green.

Of course it was green. Your mother had chosen the gown herself, deep emerald silk that caught the light like dragon scales, with gold embroidery along the bodice and sleeves. It was beautiful. It was suffocating. The fabric was heavy, weighing you down with every breath, the neckline high and formal, nothing like the simpler dresses you preferred.

"You look like a queen, my lady," one of the handmaidens said as she fastened the final clasp.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror. A stranger looked back. Your silver hair had been braided and pinned into an elaborate style, woven through with gold thread and tiny emeralds. Your face was pale, your eyes too bright. You looked older than eighteen. You looked like someone playing a part in a mummer's show, costumed for tragedy.

"Thank you," you managed, your voice distant, as though it belonged to someone else.

When they finally left you alone, you stood at the window and looked out over King's Landing. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of gold and crimson. Blood and fire, the words of your house. Somewhere in the Red Keep, Jace was preparing for the feast too. You wondered what he was thinking. You wondered if his hands were shaking the way yours were.

Your pulse fluttered at the thought of seeing him tonight. Despite everything, despite your mother's warnings, despite Helaena's prophecies, despite the growing dread that had been building for weeks, you still felt that spark of hope. Maybe your father would surprise everyone. Maybe Rhaenyra's proposal had been reconsidered. Maybe, impossibly, there was still a chance.

You touched the emerald pendant at your throat, a gift from your mother that morning. It pressed against your skin like a brand.

A knock at the door made you turn.

"It's time, my lady," a guard said. "The court is waiting."

You took a deep breath, smoothed your skirts, walked toward whatever future had been decided for you.

The Great Hall was magnificent.

Hundreds of candles blazed in the chandeliers overhead, casting golden light across the long tables laden with food and wine. Banners hung from the high ceiling: the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen, the seahorse of House Velaryon, the tower of House Hightower. Musicians played in the corner, a lively tune that felt at odds with the tension thrumming beneath the celebration like a plucked string about to snap.

Everyone who mattered was here. Lords and ladies from across the realm, dressed in their finest silks and velvets, all gathered to celebrate your eighteenth nameday. They smiled and bowed as you entered. You forced yourself to smile back, to play the part of the gracious princess.

You could feel it, though. The weight of too many eyes. The whispers that stopped when you passed. The way conversations seemed charged with something unspoken, something waiting.

You were seated at the high table, near your father. King Viserys looked tired, older than his years, the flesh of his face sagging like melted wax. He smiled when he saw you, though.

"My daughter," he said warmly, taking your hand. "Eighteen years old. How time passes."

"Thank you, Father," you said, kissing his cheek.

Your mother sat on his other side, regal in her own green gown, her expression serene. Too serene. When she looked at you, there was something in her eyes. Satisfaction, perhaps. Vindication. It made your stomach twist.

Aegon sat further down the table, already drinking heavily despite the feast having barely begun. He didn't look at you. Aemond was beside him, sharp-eyed and watchful as a hawk. Helaena sat quietly, staring at something no one else could see, her lips moving soundlessly.

Across the hall, at a table with the other highborn guests, you saw him.

He was dressed in the colors of House Velaryon, deep blue and silver, impossibly handsome in the candlelight. When your eyes met, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of you. He gave you a small smile, barely there. You felt it like a touch. Your chest tightened.

For a moment, you let yourself believe. You let yourself hope.

The feast began. Servants brought course after course: roasted meats, fresh bread, honeyed fruits, wine that flowed like water. You barely tasted any of it. Every bite turned to ash in your mouth. You drank wine to steady your nerves, yet it only made you feel more unmoored, more aware of the wrongness settling over the hall like a funeral shroud.

You kept glancing at Jace. He was seated beside his mother, who looked tense despite her composed expression. Luke was there too, laughing at something Jace said, oblivious to the undercurrent of dread.

Your father stood. The music stopped. The hall fell silent so quickly it was as though the air had been sucked from the room. Hundreds of faces turned toward the high table, toward King Viserys, toward you.

Your pulse began to pound in your ears.

"My lords and ladies," your father began, his voice carrying across the hall. "Thank you for joining us tonight to celebrate my daughter's eighteenth nameday. She has grown into a woman of grace and beauty, a true daughter of House Targaryen."

Polite applause rippled through the crowd. You forced yourself to smile. Your hands were trembling in your lap.

"As king, it is my duty to ensure the stability and prosperity of the realm," Viserys continued. "As a father, it is my duty to see my children well placed, their futures secured."

Your throat closed.

"Tonight, I am pleased to announce a betrothal that will strengthen our house and unite our bloodline."

The room seemed to tilt. You gripped the edge of the table, your knuckles white.

"My daughter will be wed to Prince Aegon, my eldest son."

The words hit you like a mace to the chest. For a moment, you couldn't process what you'd just heard. The sounds of the hall became muffled, distant, as though you were drowning. Aegon. Your brother. The drunken, resentful prince who could barely stand upright.

The hall erupted in applause and cheers. The sound was wrong, distorted, like hearing celebration from the bottom of a well. Your vision blurred at the edges. You felt your mother's hand on your arm, steadying you. You couldn't look at her. Couldn't look at anyone.

"This union," your father continued, his voice swelling with conviction, "will ensure that the Targaryen line remains pure and strong. It will prevent division, prevent the realm from tearing itself apart over questions of succession. This is our legacy. This is our duty."

Duty. The word echoed in your mind, hollow and cruel. You forced yourself to look up, to scan the crowd. Your eyes found him.

Jace was staring at you. The expression on his face shattered what was left of your composure.

Devastation. Pure, unfiltered devastation.

His face had gone pale as milk. His jaw was clenched so tightly you could see the muscle jumping. His hands were fists on the table, knuckles white as bone. For a moment, he looked like he might stand, might shout, might do something reckless and desperate.

He didn't.

He just stared at you. In his eyes, you saw everything you felt reflected back: fury, helplessness, love, the terrible, crushing weight of finality. This was it. This was the end. The moth's wings had caught fire.

Tears spilled down your cheeks before you could stop them. You didn't care who saw. You didn't care about propriety or composure or playing the part of the dutiful princess. You just stared at Jace across the hall. He stared back. The space between you was an ocean, a chasm, the end of the world.

Beside him, Rhaenyra's face was a mask of fury barely contained. Her hand was on Jace's arm, holding him in place, keeping him from doing something that would destroy them all. She looked at you with something like pity, like sorrow. She'd tried to stop this. She'd failed.

Your mother leaned close, whispered, "Smile, daughter. This is a joyous occasion."

You wanted to scream. Aegon stood instead, raising his goblet of the reddest wine.

The hall quieted again, waiting for the prince's response. Your brother swayed slightly. He was already drunk. He steadied himself, looked out at the crowd.

"I am honored," he said, his voice flat and unconvincing, "to accept this betrothal. My sister is... a worthy match."

The words were perfunctory, empty. He didn't look at you. He stared somewhere over the crowd's heads, his expression resentful and bitter as gall.

"I will do my duty," he continued. There was an edge to his voice now, something sharp and angry. "As we all must. As we are all expected to. Duty above all else, is that not what we're taught?"

Your father frowned slightly. Aegon wasn't finished.

"I accept this union because I am a prince of House Targaryen, and princes do not have the luxury of choice. So yes, Father, I accept."

The hall was silent now, the tension thick enough to choke on.

Aegon finally looked at you. For just a moment, you saw something in his eyes. Not desire, not affection. Something almost like understanding. He knew what it was like to have your life dictated by others. He knew what it was like to be trapped in a cage of duty and expectation.

"To my future wife," he said, raising his cup in a mocking toast. "May we both survive what's been decided for us."

He drank deeply, then sat down heavily, ignoring your father's disapproving look.

The applause that followed was uncertain, scattered. People didn't know how to react to Aegon's bitter acceptance. It didn't matter. The betrothal had been announced. The decision had been made.

You were going to marry your brother. Your eyes found Jace again.

He was still staring at you. The look on his face was unbearable.

In that glance, you saw everything: every stolen kiss, every whispered promise, every night spent in each other's arms. You saw the future you'd imagined together, the life you'd dreamed of, the love you'd nurtured in secret for seven years.

You saw it all crumbling to dust.

His expression told you he understood. This wasn't a temporary setback. This wasn't something you could overcome with clever planning or desperate hope. This was the end. The final, irrevocable end.

You would marry Aegon. You would stand before the Sept and pledge yourself to your brother. You would share his bed, bear his children, live the rest of your life as his wife. Jace would have to watch.

A sob caught in your throat. You pressed your hand to your mouth, trying to hold it back. It was useless. Across the hall, Jace's jaw clenched. His eyes were bright with unshed tears. Then he stood.

The hall went quiet. Everyone turned to look at him.

"Congratulations, Princess," he said, his voice rough and strained. "I wish you every happiness."

The words were formal, appropriate, exactly what he was supposed to say. His eyes told a different story.

His eyes said I love you.

His eyes said I'm sorry.

His eyes said Remember us.

He bowed, a perfect, formal bow. Then he turned and walked out of the Great Hall.

Rhaenyra rose to follow him, not before shooting your father a look of pure fury. You watched him go, watched him disappear through the doors. Something inside you broke beyond repair.

The rest of the feast passed in a blur.

People approached you. Lords and ladies offering congratulations, speaking words you didn't hear, smiling smiles that didn't reach their eyes. You nodded and thanked them mechanically, your voice coming from somewhere far away.

Your mother appeared at your side, her hand on your shoulder.

"You did well," she said quietly. "I know this is difficult. You'll understand in time, though. This is what's best for the realm. What's best for our family."

You couldn't look at her. If you looked at her, you would say something you couldn't take back.

"He was never a real option," Alicent continued, her voice gentle yet firm. "Jacerys is a bastard, no matter what his mother and the King claim. You are a trueborn princess of House Targaryen. You deserve better than-"

"Stop," you whispered.

"Daughter-"

"Please just stop talking."

Your mother's lips pressed into a thin line. She said nothing more. After a moment, she moved away, leaving you alone in the crowd.

You saw Rhaenyra across the hall. You wanted to go to her, to thank her, to apologize for something that wasn't your fault. You couldn't move, though. You were frozen in place, drowning in a sea of congratulations and false smiles.

Finally, when you couldn't bear it anymore, you stood.

"I need air," you said to no one in particular.

You walked out of the Great Hall, your green gown trailing behind you. No one stopped you. No one followed. They let you go, let you escape, because what did it matter now? The announcement had been made. The damage was done.

Your chambers were a tomb.

You closed the door behind you and leaned against it, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. The room was dark except for the moonlight streaming through the windows. Everything looked the same as it had this morning: your bed, your desk, your books. Nothing would ever be the same again, though.

You were betrothed to Aegon.

The reality of it crashed over you in waves, each one more suffocating than the last.

You would have to marry him. Let him kiss you in front of the realm. Share his bed. Let him touch you the way Jace had touched you. The thought made bile rise in your throat. You stumbled to the window, pressing your forehead against the cool glass, trying to think, trying to process the enormity of what had just happened.

The future you'd imagined, desperately hoped for, was gone. The promises you'd made to each other, that you'd find a way, that love would be enough, were nothing now. Love wasn't enough. It had never been enough.

You remembered the way he'd looked at you across the hall. The devastation in his eyes. The way he'd said I wish you every happiness when you both knew you would never be happy again. A sob tore from your throat, then another. Then you were crying so hard your chest ached. You sank to the floor, your elaborate gown pooling around you, let yourself break.

You cried for the future you'd lost. For the boy you loved and could never have. For the life you'd been forced into. For the duty that had destroyed everything beautiful and good.

You cried until there were no tears left, until you were empty and hollow and numb. Then you just sat there in the darkness, staring at nothing, feeling nothing.

Somewhere in the Red Keep, Jace was doing the same. You knew it with a certainty that made your chest ache. He was alone in his chambers, breaking apart the same way you were, mourning the same loss.

You couldn't go to him, though. You couldn't comfort him. You couldn't even send him a message.

That part of your life was over.

You were betrothed to Prince Aegon. Your duty was clear. The girl who had loved Jacerys Velaryon in secret, who had stolen moments in gardens and whispered promises in the dark, that girl was gone.

You had to bury her. You had to forget her. You had to become someone else. Someone who could survive this.

Outside your window, the moon rose higher, cold and distant and uncaring. The Red Keep settled into silence. The feast was over, the celebration was done. You sat alone in the darkness wearing a green dress that was a shroud. All you could do was try to figure out how to keep living when your soul had been ripped from your chest.

Tomorrow, you would have to face Aegon. Tomorrow, you would have to begin planning a wedding you didn't want. Tomorrow, you would have to pretend that everything was fine, that you were honored, that you accepted your duty with grace.

But tonight, you let yourself grieve.

You grieved for Jace. For yourself. For the love that had been beautiful and impossible and doomed from the very start. You understood, finally, what Helaena had been trying to tell you all along.

The moth sees the flame and thinks it beautiful. It doesn't see the heat. It doesn't feel the burning until it's too late.

You had flown too close to the flame and now there was nothing left but ash.

Taglist: @claerysa , @nutellatacollama , @glooblyglob

indebtedto-you

The Price I'd Pay for You

jacaerys velaryon

jacaerys velaryon x forbiddenlove!reader

A story of forbidden love, political intrigue, and the impossible choice between the duty you were born to and the life you were meant to have.

genre/warnings: suggestive content, 18+ minors do not interact! childhood friends to lovers, forbidden love, yearning and longing and all the things that make something desirable to read. // fluff, some angst, small bit of smut but nothing crazy, familial sexual relationships, its GOT universe you know the vibe.

chapter 2 word count: 3277

notes: this one is interesting, lots of fluff and a little bit of love making, my chest was warm and cold writing it... I hope you enjoy! Oh, and I made a taglist after being requested, they are lonely down there so if you do wish to be added comment and let me know!

Chapter 3

You woke in Jacerys Velaryon's bed.

Dawn light filtered through the heavy curtains of his chambers, painting everything in shades of gold and amber. His arm was draped across your waist, his chest pressed against your back, his breath warm against your neck. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing, still deep with sleep.

This had become routine. Dangerous, reckless routine.

You shifted slightly, and his arm tightened around you, pulling you closer. A soft sound escaped him, something between a sigh and a groan, and then his lips were on your shoulder, pressing lazy kisses to your bare skin.

"Good morning," he murmured, his voice rough with sleep.

"Good morning." You turned in his arms to face him, and gods, he was beautiful like this. Hair mussed from sleep and your fingers, eyes still heavy-lidded, a small smile playing at his lips. "We should get up. Someone will come by soon-"

"Let them," he said, and kissed you.

It was different now, seven months after that night. There was no hesitation, no uncertainty. You knew each other's bodies as well as your own. You knew that he loved when you kissed the hollow of his throat, that he could make you come apart with just his fingers and his voice in your ear, that afterward he always held you like you were something precious.

The kiss deepened, and you felt him hardening against your thigh. Your hand slid down his chest, his stomach, lower...

A knock at the door made you both freeze.

"My prince?" A servant's voice, muffled through the heavy wood. "Your mother requests your presence at breakfast."

Jace pulled back with a frustrated groan. "I'll be there shortly," he called out.

Footsteps retreated down the corridor.

"I should go," you said, but made no move to leave his arms.

"You should," he agreed, but his hand was tracing patterns on your hip, your waist, the curve of your breast. "In a moment."

"Jace-"

He kissed you again, slow and thorough, until you were breathless and aching. "Tonight," he promised against your lips. "Come back tonight."

"Of course, my prince..."

You dressed quickly, stealing his tunic because yours had somehow ended up across the room. It smelled like him and you buried your face in it for a moment before pulling it on.

"Keep it," he said, watching you with dark eyes. "I like seeing you in my clothes."

"Possessive," you teased.

"Always." He crossed to you, cupping your face in his hands. "And I want everyone to know it."

"They will," you said. "Soon."

It was a promise you'd been making for months now. Soon they would have to acknowledge what was between you. Soon they would have to let you be together. Soon, soon, soon.

But soon never seemed to come.

You slipped out through the hidden passage that connected his chambers to the lower levels, the same route you'd taken dozens of times before. The servants knew, of course. Everyone knew. But no one spoke of it directly, and that was enough.

For now.

Breakfast was a tense affair.

You arrived late, still wearing Jace's tunic under your dress, and took your seat beside Helaena. Your mother's eyes tracked your every movement, her mouth pressed into a thin line. Across the table, Aegon smirked into his wine.

"Late night?" he asked innocently.

"Aegon," your mother warned.

"What? I'm simply asking after my dear sister's well-being. She looks tired. Doesn't she look tired to you, Aemond?"

Aemond didn't look up from his plate. "I don't concern myself with such matters."

"How wise of you," you said sweetly, and reached for the bread.

Jace arrived moments later with Rhaenyra, Luke, and Joffrey in tow. His hair was still damp from a hasty washing, and when his eyes met yours across the table, something hot and intimate passed between you. You felt your cheeks flush.

Your mother noticed. She noticed everything.

"Princess," Rhaenyra said warmly, taking her seat. "You look lovely this morning. That color suits you."

"Thank you, Princess Rhaenyra."

"Doesn't she, Jacerys?" Rhaenyra's tone was pointed, deliberate.

Jace's lips quirked. "She does."

The tension at the table ratcheted up several notches. Your mother's knuckles were white around her fork. Aegon looked delighted. Even your father, usually oblivious to such undercurrents, seemed to sense something was amiss.

"Perhaps," Viserys said carefully, "we should discuss the upcoming celebrations. Your eighteenth nameday approaches, daughter. We should begin planning the feast."

Your stomach dropped. Your eighteenth nameday. Three weeks away.

"Of course, Father," you said, keeping your voice steady.

Under the table, you felt Jace's foot brush against yours. A small comfort, but you clung to it.

The rest of breakfast passed in uncomfortable silence, broken only by the clatter of silverware and Joffrey's occasional questions. When it finally ended, you escaped to the gardens with Helaena, desperate for air.

"You're being reckless," Helaena said quietly as you walked among the roses.

"I know."

"Mother is furious. She knows where you spend your nights."

"I know that too."

Helaena stopped, turning to face you. Her eyes, usually so distant, so dreamy, were sharp and focused. "The moth flies closer to the flame. Soon it will burn."

"Helaena please stop."

"I'm not speaking in riddles," she said. "I'm telling you plainly. Whatever you think you have with Jacerys, whatever you think will happen, it won't. They won't allow it. And your nameday..." She trailed off, shaking her head.

She walked away before you could respond, leaving you alone among the roses with a growing sense of dread.

That afternoon, you flew with Jace.

It had become your escape, your sanctuary. Up in the sky, there were no disapproving mothers, no smirking brothers, no political machinations. There was only wind and clouds and the powerful beat of dragon wings beneath you. Starfyre and Vermax flew in tandem, so close their wings nearly touched. You could see Jace on Vermax's back, his face turned toward you, grinning with pure joy. This was where he was most himself, free, unbound by duty or expectation.

You raced to the cliffs, and this time he won. When you landed beside him, breathless and laughing, he was already dismounting.

"I let you win," you said.

"Liar." He caught you as you slid from Starfyre's back, his hands on your waist, and pulled you close. "Admit defeat gracefully, princess."

"Never."

He kissed you there on the clifftop, with both dragons watching and the whole world spread out below. His hands slid into your hair, tilting your head back, and you melted into him. Seven months, and every kiss still felt like the first. Every touch still made your heart race.

"I love you," he said against your lips.

"I love you too."

"When we're married-"

"Jace I-"

"When we're married," he continued stubbornly, "we'll do this every day. Fly together, race, make love on clifftops where no one can find us."

"That sounds perfect," you said, even as your heart ached. Because you both knew it was a fantasy. A beautiful, impossible fantasy.

"My mother spoke to yours," Jace said suddenly. "And to your father. She proposed a betrothal between us."

You pulled back to look at him. "What?"

"Two weeks ago. She made a formal proposal. Said it would unite our families, strengthen Rhaenyra's claim, give legitimacy to-" He stopped, jaw clenching. "She argued for us. Passionately."

Hope bloomed in your chest, fragile and desperate. "And?"

"They refused." His voice was flat, defeated. "Your mother really. She said it was out of the question. That you were... that you had other duties."

The hope died as quickly as it had sparked. "Other duties," you repeated numbly.

"I'm sorry." He pulled you close again, his arms tight around you. "I thought, I hoped..."

"So did I." You pressed your face against his chest, breathing him in. "What do we do now?"

"We keep going," he said fiercely. "We keep loving each other. We keep fighting. Maybe if we're persistent enough, if we show them we're serious."

"Jace." You looked up at him. "You know that's not how this works. We're not children anymore. They're not going to change their minds because we want them to."

"Then what?" His voice cracked. "I'm supposed to just accept that I can't have you? That they're going to give you to someone else?"

"I don't know," you whispered. "I don't know."

You stood there on the clifftop, holding each other as the sun began to set, and for the first time, you let yourself truly feel the weight of your situation. This wasn't a game. This wasn't a romance story leaving the mouth of a bard. This was real, and it was impossible, and it was going to break both of you.

But not yet. Not today.

"Tonight," Jace said. "Come to my chambers tonight. Let me love you. Let me pretend, just for a few hours, that you're mine and I'm yours and nothing else matters."

"I am yours," you said. "I'll always be yours."

"Then come to me tonight."

"I will."

Your mother was waiting in your chambers when you returned.

She stood by the window, her back to you, her posture rigid with barely contained fury. You knew this confrontation had been coming. You'd been avoiding it for months.

"Mother-"

"Don't." She turned, and the look on her face made you step back. "Don't say anything. Just listen."

You closed the door and waited.

"I know where you've been spending your nights," she said. "I know what you've been doing. The entire court knows. Do you understand what that means? Do you understand what you've done to your reputation?"

"I love him," you said.

"Love." She laughed. "You think love matters? You think love will protect you when the realm tears itself apart? When your father dies and Rhaenyra tries to take the throne and we're all forced to choose sides?"

"That's not-"

"It is exactly what will happen," she snapped. "And when it does, you will need to be positioned correctly. You will need to be married to someone who can protect you, who can secure your future. Not some-" She stopped herself, but you heard the unspoken words anyway. Not some bastard.

"Don't," you said, your voice dangerous. "Don't you dare."

"It's what everyone is thinking. What everyone is saying. Rhaenyra's bastard and the princess, playing at love while the realm burns around them."

"We're not playing at anything. I love him. He loves me. Why can't that be enough?"

"Because it isn't!" Your mother's composure finally cracked. "Because love doesn't matter when it comes to duty, to family, to survival. I thought I taught you better than this. I thought you understood-"

"Understood what? That I'm just a piece to be moved around a board? That my feelings don't matter as long as I serve the family?"

"Yes," she said simply. "That is exactly what you are. What we all are. And the sooner you accept that, the easier this will be."

"Easier for whom?"

She looked at you for a long moment, and something in her expression softened. "For you, daughter. I'm trying to protect you. This path you're on, it leads nowhere good. It leads to heartbreak and ruin. Please. Please stop this before it's too late."

"It's already too late," you said. "I'm his. Completely. And nothing you say will change that."

Your mother closed her eyes. "Your nameday is in three weeks. Your father will make an announcement then. A betrothal."

The world tilted. "To whom?"

"I don't know yet. But it won't be Jacerys Velaryon. That much is certain."

She left without another word, and you stood there in your chambers, shaking with rage and fear and desperate, clawing grief.

Three weeks. You had three weeks left.

That night, you went to Jace's chambers as promised.

He was waiting for you, pacing like a caged animal. The moment you entered, he pulled you into his arms.

"I heard," he said. "My mother told me. Your nameday-"

"I know."

"We have to do something. We have to-"

You kissed him to stop the words. Kissed him desperately, hungrily, like you could pour all your fear and love and rage into this one connection. He responded immediately, his hands fisting in your hair, his body pressing you back against the door.

"Make me forget," you gasped against his mouth. "Please, Jace. Make me forget everything except this."

He did.

He undressed you slowly, reverently, pressing kisses to every inch of skin he revealed. He laid you on his bed and worshipped your body with his hands and mouth until you were writhing beneath him, begging for more. When he finally entered you, it felt like coming home.

You made love slowly at first, savoring every touch, every kiss, every whispered declaration. Then faster, more desperately, as if you could somehow hold back the future through sheer force of passion. You came apart in his arms, crying his name, and he followed moments later, burying his face in your neck.

Afterward, you lay tangled together, your head on his chest, his fingers tracing patterns on your bare shoulder.

"Run away with me," he said suddenly.

You lifted your head to look at him. "What?"

"Run away with me. Tonight. We'll take our dragons and fly somewhere they can't find us. Essos, maybe. Or beyond the Wall. Somewhere we can be together."

"Jace-"

"I'm serious." He sat up, pulling you with him. "We could do it. We could leave all of this behind, the politics, the duty, the expectations. We could just be us."

"And what about your mother? Your brothers? Your claim to Driftmark?"

"I don't care about any of that. I only care about you."

"You say that now," you said gently. "But you would care. Eventually, you would resent me for making you give it all up. And I would resent myself for letting you."

"So what, then?" His voice broke. "We just accept this? We let them tear us apart?"

"I don't know." You cupped his face in your hands. "I don't know what we do. But running away isn't the answer. We both know that."

He pulled you close again, and you felt wetness on your shoulder. He was crying. Jacerys Velaryon, who never cried, who was always strong, always brave, he was crying.

"I can't lose you," he whispered. "I can't."

"You won't," you promised, even though you both knew it was a lie. "I'm yours. No matter what happens, no matter who they make me marry, I'm yours. Always."

"Always," he repeated, and kissed you again.

You stayed in his arms until dawn, neither of you sleeping, both of you clinging to these last precious hours. Because you could feel it now, the end approaching like a storm on the horizon. Dark and inevitable and devastating.

The next two weeks passed in a blur of stolen moments and mounting dread.

You and Jace grew bolder, more reckless. You held hands in the corridors. You spent entire days together, riding dragons, walking the battlements, sitting in the gardens. You acted like a couple, like you were already betrothed, and let the court whisper.

Your mother's warnings grew more frequent, more desperate. Rhaenyra, conversely, seemed to encourage your defiance. She smiled when she saw you together. She made pointed comments about how well-suited you were. She was fighting for you in her own way, even though she'd already lost.

The political situation deteriorated daily. Your father's health was failing. Rhaenyra's position grew more precarious. Aegon grew more resentful. Aemond grew harder, colder. The realm was fracturing, everyone could feel it and through it all, you and Jace loved each other with increasing desperation.

You made love in his chambers, in your chambers, once even in the library late at night when you couldn't bear to be apart. Every touch felt like it might be the last. Every kiss tasted of goodbye.

Three days before your nameday, Rhaenyra found you alone in the gardens.

"Princess," she said, sitting beside you on the bench. "May I speak plainly?"

"Of course."

"I tried," she said. "I want you to know that. I proposed the match to your mother and father. I argued for it. I told them you and Jacerys love each other, that you would be happy together, that it would strengthen both our families."

"I know," you said. "Jace told me."

"They refused. Your mother- she has... other plans for you."

"Do you know what they are?"

Rhaenyra hesitated. "I have suspicions. But I hope I'm wrong."

That didn't sound promising.

"I'm sorry," she continued. "If I had more power, if my position were more secure, I could push harder. But as it stands..." She trailed off, shaking her head. "I'm sorry. You deserve better than this. You both do."

"Thank you," you said. "For trying."

"Jacerys loves you very much," she said. "I've never seen him like this with anyone. You've made him happy. Whatever happens, I want you to know that."

"He's made me happy too," you said, your voice thick with emotion. "Happier than I ever thought possible."

Rhaenyra squeezed your hand and left you alone with your thoughts.

The night before your eighteenth nameday, you couldn't sleep.

You lay in Jace's arms, listening to his heartbeat, trying to memorize the feeling of his skin against yours. Tomorrow, everything would change. Tomorrow, your father would make his announcement, and this fragile happiness would shatter.

"What are you thinking?" Jace asked softly.

"That I wish we could stay like this forever."

"We can," he said. "In here, in this moment, we can stay like this forever."

"That's not how time works."

"Then we'll make our own time. Our own world. One where tomorrow never comes."

You turned in his arms to face him. In the darkness, you could barely see his face, but you knew every line of it by heart. "I love you," you said. "More than anything. More than duty or family or my own life. I need you to know that."

"I know," he said. "I love you too. And whatever happens tomorrow, whatever they announce, whatever they try to do, it won't change that. Nothing will ever change that."

"Promise me something," you said.

"Anything."

"Promise me you'll remember this. Remember us. Remember how much we loved each other. Even if-" Your voice broke. "Even if we can't be together. Promise me you'll remember."

"I promise," he said fiercely. "I could never forget. Even if I wanted to, even if I tried, I could never forget you."

You kissed him then, pouring everything into it, all your love, all your fear, all your desperate hope that somehow, impossibly, this wouldn't be the end.

You made love one last time as the night deepened toward dawn. Slowly, tenderly, like you were trying to memorize each other's bodies. Every touch was a promise. Every kiss was a prayer. Every whispered "I love you" was a vow that transcended whatever announcement tomorrow would bring.

When it was over, you lay in his arms and watched the sky begin to lighten outside his window.

"It's almost dawn," you whispered.

"Then we still have time," he said, holding you tighter. "We still have now."

But you could feel it, the future pressing in, inevitable and cruel. Tomorrow you would turn eighteen. Tomorrow your father would announce your betrothal. Tomorrow, this beautiful, impossible love would be tested in ways you weren't sure either of you could survive.

But right now, right now you were still his and he was still yours.

Taglist: @claerysa

indebtedto-you

The Price I'd Pay for You

jacaerys velaryon

jacaerys velaryon x forbiddenlove!reader

A story of forbidden love, political intrigue, and the impossible choice between the duty you were born to and the life you were meant to have.

genre/warnings: suggestive content, 18+ minors do not interact! childhood friends to lovers, forbidden love, yearning and longing and all the things that make something desirable to read. // smut, Jace takes MCs virginity, familial sexual relationships, its GOT universe you know the vibe.

chapter 2 word count: 3253

notes: Honestly, chapter 1 is doing so well I’m dropping Chapter 2, if this one does as well I'll go ahead and drop 3 tonight or early tomorrow :)... This one I could read over and over again, I'm so proud of myself and the way the story is going here.

Chapter 2

A year passed. A year of stolen moments and desperate kisses, of secret signals and whispered promises. A year of loving Jacerys Velaryon with everything you had while knowing it could never be enough.

You were seventeen now. He was eighteen and tonight, tonight would be different.

The plan had taken weeks to arrange. A trusted handmaiden who owed you a favor. A carefully constructed alibi about feeling ill and needing rest. A cloak borrowed from Helaena's wardrobe, dark enough to blend into shadows. Every detail had to be perfect because tonight, you weren't just stealing an hour in the gardens.

Tonight, you were stealing the whole night.

Your heart hammered against your ribs as you slipped through the hidden passage that led from your chambers to the lower levels of the Red Keep. The stone was cool beneath your fingertips, the air damp and musty. You'd walked this path a hundred times before, but never like this. Never with this sense of purpose, this trembling anticipation that made your whole body feel alive.

The gardens were silver-washed in moonlight when you finally emerged. Summer had settled over King's Landing like a warm blanket, and the air was thick with the scent of night-blooming jasmine and roses. Your secret spot, the alcove hidden behind the tall hedge, beckoned like a sanctuary. This place had kept your secrets for years. It would keep this one too.

Jace stood beneath the flowering tree, his back to you, hands clasped behind him. Even in silhouette, you knew every line of him. The breadth of his shoulders. The way he held himself, caught between the boy you'd grown up with and the man he was becoming. Your chest tightened with love so fierce it almost hurt.

"Jace," you breathed.

He turned, and the look on his face, gods, the look on his face. Relief and desire and something deeper, something that made your knees weak. In three strides, he crossed the distance between you and pulled you into his arms.

"You're here," he murmured against your hair, breathing you in.

"Where else would I be?"

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands sliding down your arms to capture your hands. In the moonlight, his eyes were dark, intense. "Do you know how beautiful you are?"

"Jace-"

"No, I mean it." His gaze roamed your face like he was memorizing every detail. "Sometimes I look at you and I can't believe you're real. That you're here. That you love me."

"I do love you," you whispered. "So much it consumes me."

He kissed you then, and it was different from every kiss before. There was no hesitation, no fear of being interrupted. This kiss was claiming, possessive, a promise of what was to come. You melted into him, your hands sliding up his chest to curl around his neck. The kiss deepened, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips until you opened for him with a soft gasp.

Heat pooled low in your belly as his hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him. You could feel every hard plane of his body through the thin fabric of your dress, and the sensation made you dizzy with want.

"I brought blankets," Jace said, his voice rough. He gestured to a pile you hadn't noticed before, carefully arranged on the grass beneath the tree. Thick, soft blankets that would cushion you from the ground. "And wine. I wanted tonight to be perfect."

"It already is," you said, but you let him lead you to the makeshift bed he'd prepared.

The blankets were soft beneath you as you settled onto them, and Jace sat beside you, close enough that your thighs touched. He poured wine into two cups, his hands steady despite the intensity in his eyes. You took a sip, the sweet liquid warming you from the inside, though you hardly needed it. Your whole body felt like it was on fire.

"To us," Jace said, raising his cup. "To tonight."

"To us," you echoed, and drank.

He set the cups aside and turned to you, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. "I've dreamed about this," he admitted. "About you. About us like this, with the whole night ahead of us."

"So have I," you confessed. "Every night."

His thumb brushed across your lower lip, and you couldn't help but part your lips, your tongue darting out to taste his skin. He laughed, low and deep, and then he was kissing you again, bearing you back onto the blankets.

The weight of him above you felt right, perfect. His hips settled between your thighs, and even through layers of fabric, you could feel the hard length of him pressing against you. The sensation made you gasp into his mouth, your hips rolling up instinctively to meet his.

"Gods," he breathed against your lips. "You're going to be the death of me."

"Then we'll die together," you said, and pulled him back down for another kiss.

His hands began to explore, tracing the curve of your waist, the flare of your hips. When his palm cupped your breast through your dress, you arched into his touch with a moan. He squeezed gently, his thumb finding your nipple and circling it until it hardened beneath the fabric.

"I want to see you," he said, his voice rough with desire. "All of you. I've imagined it so many times, but I need to see you."

"Then look," you said, sitting up enough to reach for the fastenings of your dress. "Help me."

His fingers joined yours, working at the small buttons that ran down the front of your gown. There was something intimate about this, the two of you working together to bare your body to him. When the last button came free, he helped you slide the dress off your shoulders, down your arms, until it pooled at your waist.

You wore only a thin chemise beneath, and in the moonlight, you might as well have been naked. The fabric was nearly transparent, showing the dark peaks of your nipples, the curve of your breasts. Jace's breath caught, his eyes darkening as he drank in the sight of you.

"Beautiful," he murmured.

His hands came up to cup your breasts, and even through the thin fabric, the heat of his palms made you gasp. He explored you with reverent touches, learning the weight of you, the shape of you. When his thumbs brushed over your nipples, you couldn't suppress a moan.

"Does that feel good?" he asked, doing it again.

"Yes," you breathed. "Gods, yes."

He lowered his head, pressing kisses to your collarbone, your throat, the swell of your breast. When his mouth closed over your nipple through the fabric, you cried out, your fingers tangling in his hair. The sensation was overwhelming, wet heat and gentle suction that sent pleasure shooting straight through you.

"Jace," you gasped. "Please."

He lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours. "Please what? Tell me what you want."

"I want to feel your skin against mine. I want-" You tugged at his tunic. "Take this off."

He sat back on his heels and pulled his tunic over his head in one smooth motion, tossing it aside. The sight of him, bare-chested in the moonlight, all lean muscle and smooth skin, made your mouth go dry. You'd seen him shirtless before, during training or swimming, but never like this. Never with the knowledge that you could touch him, that he was yours.

You reached out, your palms sliding over his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your hands. His skin was warm, smooth except for a few scars from training. You traced them with your fingers, learning every line of him.

"Your turn," he said, his voice rough. His hands found the hem of your chemise, and you lifted your arms, letting him pull it over your head.

The night air kissed your bare skin, raising goosebumps, but Jace's gaze was hotter than any summer breeze. He stared at you like you were something precious, something sacred. His hands hovered, uncertain, until you took them and placed them on your bare breasts.

The first touch of his palms against your naked skin made you both gasp. He explored you with careful hands, learning what made you sigh, what made you arch into his touch. When he lowered his head to take your nipple into his mouth, no barrier between you now, you moaned his name.

He lavished attention on your breasts, his mouth and hands working in tandem until you were writhing beneath him, desperate for more. Your hands roamed his back, his shoulders, feeling the flex of muscle beneath skin. When you reached for the laces of his breeches, he groaned against your breast.

"Are you sure?" he asked, lifting his head to look at you. "We don't have to, if you're not ready-"

"I'm sure," you said firmly. "I want this. I want you. All of you."

He helped you with his laces, and then he was kicking off his breeches, his smallclothes, until he was barer than you were. You couldn't help but stare. You'd felt him pressed against you before, but seeing him was different. He was hard, thick, and the sight of him made heat pool between your thighs.

"You're staring," he said, but there was no embarrassment in his voice. Only warmth, and desire.

"I'm allowed to stare at what's mine," you said, echoing words he'd spoken before.

Something flashed in his eyes at that. "Yours," he repeated, voice rough. "I am yours. Always have been. Always will be."

"And I'm yours," you said. "Completely."

He reached for the skirt of your dress, still bunched around your waist, and you lifted your hips to let him pull it down your legs. Your smallclothes followed, until you were both completely bare beneath the stars.

For a moment, you just looked at each other. There was vulnerability in this, in being seen so completely, but also rightness. This was Jace. Your Jace. The boy who'd held your hand when you were ten, who'd kissed you when you were fourteen, who'd told you he loved you when you were sixteen.

The man you loved with your whole heart.

He settled between your thighs again, and the feel of his bare skin against yours was almost too much. You could feel every inch of him, his chest, the muscles of his stomach, the thick length of him pressed against your core.

"I love you," he said, his forehead resting against yours. "I need you to know that. This isn't just- I love you. With everything I am."

"I love you too," you whispered. "Show me. Please, Jace. Show me."

His hand slid down your body, over your stomach, your hip, until his fingers found the heat between your thighs. You gasped at the first touch, your hips lifting instinctively. He explored you carefully, his fingers sliding through your wetness.

"Gods," he breathed. "Is this all for me?"

"Yes," you moaned. "Only for you. Always for you."

He found the sensitive bundle of nerves at your apex and circled it with gentle pressure. Pleasure sparked through you, building with each stroke of his fingers. When he slid one finger inside you, you cried out, your hands clutching at his shoulders.

"Does that hurt?" he asked, stilling immediately.

"No," you gasped. "It feels good. Don't stop."

He worked you carefully, adding a second finger, stretching you, preparing you. His thumb continued to circle that sensitive spot, and the dual sensation was overwhelming. Pleasure built in waves, each one higher than the last, until you were trembling beneath him.

"That's it," he encouraged, his voice rough with desire. "Let go. I want to watch you come apart."

The orgasm crashed over you like a wave, stealing your breath, making stars burst behind your eyelids. You cried out his name, your body clenching around his fingers, pleasure rolling through you in endless waves. When you came back to yourself, he was watching you with such tenderness it made your chest ache.

"Beautiful," he murmured. "You're so beautiful when you unravel"

You pulled him down for a kiss. "I want you inside me," you whispered against his mouth. "I want to feel you. All of you."

He positioned himself at your entrance, the thick head of him pressing against you. "Tell me if it hurts," he said. "If you need me to stop-"

"I won't," you promised. "I want this. I want you."

He pushed inside slowly, carefully, and you gasped at the stretch of it. There was a moment of sharp discomfort as he breached you, but it faded quickly, replaced by a sense of fullness, of completion. When he was fully seated inside you, you both stilled, breathing hard.

"Gods," Jace groaned. "You feel- I can't-"

"Move," you urged. "Please, Jace. I need you to move."

He pulled back and thrust in again, setting a slow, steady rhythm. The discomfort faded completely, replaced by pleasure that built with each stroke. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he moaned your name.

"Is this good?" he asked, his voice strained. "Am I hurting you?"

"No," you gasped. "It's perfect. You're perfect. Harder, Jace. Please."

His hips snapped forward, driving deeper, and you cried out at the sensation. He set a faster pace, each thrust hitting something inside you that made pleasure spark through your entire body. The sounds you made together, gasps and moans and whispered endearments, mingled with the night sounds of the garden.

"I love you," he panted. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," you moaned. "You're mine, Jace. Mine."

"Yours," he agreed. "Always yours."

His hand slipped between your bodies, finding that sensitive spot again, and the dual sensation of his fingers and his cock was too much. You came apart with a cry, clenching around him, and he followed seconds later with a groan, spilling inside you.

For a long moment, you just held each other, hearts racing, bodies slick with sweat despite the cool night air. Jace pressed kisses to your temple, your cheek, your lips, soft, reverent touches that made your eyes sting with emotion.

"Are you alright?" he asked finally, pulling back to look at you.

"More than alright," you said, smiling up at him. "That was-"

"Perfect," he finished. "You're perfect."

He withdrew carefully, and you winced slightly at the sensitivity. He noticed immediately, concern creasing his brow.

"Did I hurt you?"

"No," you assured him. "Or, maybe a little, but it's normal. It's fine, Jace. Better than fine. That was everything I'd hoped it would be."

He settled beside you, pulling you into his arms and arranging the blankets over your cooling bodies. You nestled against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, feeling more content than you'd ever been.

"I wish we could stay like this forever," you murmured.

"So do I." His fingers traced lazy patterns on your shoulder. "In a perfect world, we'd be married. We'd have our own chambers. I'd wake up beside you every morning and fall asleep holding you every night."

"Tell me about it," you said. "Our perfect world."

He was quiet for a moment, thinking. "We'd have a home by the sea. Somewhere we could fly our dragons every day. Somewhere far from court politics and family expectations. Just us."

"What else?"

"We'd have children. At least three. They'd have your eyes and your spirit. They'd be brave and kind and free."

You laughed softly. "They'd have your stubbornness."

"Probably," he admitted with a smile you could hear in his voice. "We'd grow old together. I'd love you when your hair turned silver, well- more silver, and when your face had lines from smiling. I'd love you until my last breath and beyond."

"That sounds perfect."

"It does, doesn't it?" His arms tightened around you. "I hate that we can't have it."

"We have this," you said fiercely. "We have tonight. We have each other, even if it's in secret. That's more than nothing."

"You're right." He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "And I'm grateful for every moment. Every stolen kiss. Every secret meeting. Every time I get to hold you like this."

You tilted your head back to look at him. "Make love to me again."

His lips parted slightly. "Are you sure? You must be sore-"

"I don't care," you said. "We have all night, and I want to spend every moment of it loving you."

He kissed you deeply, and you felt him hardening against your hip. This time, when you made love, it was slower, more exploratory. You learned each other's bodies with patient attention, what touches made him gasp, what kisses made you moan. You discovered that he was sensitive behind his ear, that kissing down his chest made his breath hitch. That saying his name made him melt in to you. He learned that you loved when he sucked marks into your neck, that you came apart when he whispered how much he loved you.

You made love again as the night deepened, this time with you on top, learning how to move, how to take your pleasure. The sight of him beneath you, head thrown back, eyes closed, lips parted in pleasure, was something you'd treasure forever.

Again near dawn, with desperate urgency, knowing your time was running out. This time he took you from behind, his chest pressed to your back, his hand between your legs, whispering in your ear about how perfect you felt, how much he loved you, how you were his and he was yours.

When the sky began to lighten in the east, you lay tangled together, exhausted and sated. Your body ached in new ways, marked by his touch, his kisses, the evidence of your lovemaking. You could feel the pleasant soreness between your thighs, the tender spots on your neck where he'd sucked marks into your skin.

"We should get dressed," Jace said reluctantly, though he made no move to let you go.

"Not yet," you said. "Just a few more minutes."

Those minutes stretched as neither of you could bear to be the first to pull away. But eventually, the sky grew too bright, and you knew you had to return before your absence was noticed. You dressed slowly, stealing kisses between each piece of clothing. When you were both fully clothed again, Jace pulled you close one last time.

"When can we do this again?" he asked.

"Soon," you promised. "I'll send word through the usual channels. Maybe next week? In my chambers, if we are quiet."

"I'll count every hour until then."

"So will I." You cupped his face in your hands. "I love you. My heart, my soul, my everything."

"I love you too." He kissed you one last time, deep and thorough.

You slipped away as the sun crested the horizon, your body aching, your heart full to bursting. You'd given yourself to Jacerys Velaryon completely, irrevocably. You were his, and he was yours. No matter what the future held, no one could take that away from you.

That night had been yours. And there would be more nights, you promised yourself. As many as you could steal before the world came crashing down around you. For now, that was enough.

indebtedto-you

The Price I'd Pay for You

jacaerys velaryon

jacaerys velaryon x forbiddenlove!reader

A story of forbidden love, political intrigue, and the impossible choice between the duty you were born to and the life you were meant to have.

genre/warnings: suggestive content, 18+ minors do not interact! childhood friends to lovers, forbidden love, yearning and longing and all the things that make something desirable to read. //smut, familial sexual relationships, its GOT universe you know the vibe.

chapter 1 word count: 4315

notes: I have most of this story completed and thought, why don't I start posting again... So here I am Tumblr I'm back. I love Jace and I would steal him away and lock him in my bedroom so he doesn't get obliterated by the triarchy. Enjoy Chapter 1!

CHAPTER ONE

You were ten years old when Jacerys Velaryon became your favorite person in the world.

Not in the way Helaena was your favorite sister, or the way you preferred honey cakes to lemon tarts. This was different, deeper, more essential. Being with Jace felt like breathing. Natural. Necessary. Right in a way you couldn't explain but didn't need to.

You'd grown up together at court. Jace was Rhaenyra's eldest son, heir to Driftmark, and you were King Viserys's daughter, younger than Aegon and Aemond, older than Helaena. Your mothers had ensured you were raised alongside each other, a careful political dance meant to keep the family united despite the whispers about Jace's parentage.

Those whispers didn't matter to you. You'd never cared that his hair was brown instead of silver, that his eyes were dark instead of violet. He was Jace, kind and funny and brave in ways your brothers weren't. He made you laugh. He listened when you talked. He understood things about you that no one else seemed to notice.

"You're not paying attention," he said one day in the library, nudging your foot under the table.

You blinked, realizing you'd been watching him instead of reading. "I am."

"Then what did Maester Mellos just say about the Conquest?"

You had no idea. You'd been watching the way Jace's fingers traced the words on the page, the way his brow furrowed when he concentrated. It was more interesting than anything the maester was saying.

"Something about... dragons?" you tried.

Jace laughed, a warm, genuine sound that made you want to laugh too. "You're hopeless."

"I'm distracted," you corrected.

"By what?"

By you.

But you couldn't say that. You were ten, and he was eleven, and you didn't have words for what you felt. You just knew that being near him made everything better.

"By how boring Maester Mellos is," you said instead, and Jace laughed again.

It started with small things. The way Jace would save you a seat beside him during lessons, even when Aegon tried to claim it. The way he'd slip you candied lemons from the kitchens because he knew they were your favorite. The way his face would light up when you entered a room.

"There you are," he'd say, like he'd been waiting. "I was hoping you'd come."

And you always did. Because wherever Jace was felt like where you were supposed to be.

You developed a language of your own, small gestures and inside jokes that no one else understood. A particular look across the dinner table that meant this is unbearably boring, let's escape. A tap on the wrist that meant meet me in the gardens after. A smile that meant I'm glad you're here.

Your mother noticed, of course. Alicent was too observant not to.

"You spend a great deal of time with Prince Jacerys," she remarked one evening as she brushed your hair before bed.

"He's my friend," you said simply. "My best friend."

"I know, my dear." Her hands were gentle, methodical. "I'm glad you have such a close companion. But you must remember, he is Rhaenyra's son. And you are mine. There are... expectations for both of you."

You didn't really understand what she meant. Jace was Jace. What did it matter whose son he was?

"Yes, Mother," you said anyway.

That night, you lay awake thinking about the way Jace had squeezed your hand earlier when you'd been upset about something Aegon said. The way he always seemed to know when you needed comfort. The way being near him felt like home.

Jacerys Velaryon was the most important person in your world.

The gardens became your sanctuary. There was a spot, hidden behind a tall hedge of roses, with a stone bench beneath a flowering tree where no one ever seemed to go. You'd discovered it by accident one afternoon while trying to escape Aegon's teasing, and you'd shown it to Jace the next day.

"It's perfect," he'd said, spinning in a circle to take it all in. "Our secret place."

"Promise you won't tell anyone?"

He'd held out his hand, pinky extended. "Promise."

You'd linked your pinky with his, and the gesture had felt important. Binding. Like you were making a real oath.

You met there often after that. Sometimes to read together, sometimes to talk, sometimes just to sit in comfortable silence. It was the one place where you could be yourselves, not a princess and a prince, just you and Jace.

One afternoon, when you were both ten, you were sitting on the bench when Jace suddenly said, "Do you ever wish you were someone else?"

You looked up from your book. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know." He was staring at the sky. "Someone without all these expectations. Someone who could just... be."

You understood immediately. The weight of being Rhaenyra's heir, the whispers about his legitimacy, the way people watched him constantly, it bothered him, even if he tried not to show it.

"Sometimes," you admitted. "I wish I could just fly away on Starfyre and never come back."

"Where would you go?"

"Somewhere warm. With beaches and palm trees. Somewhere no one knows my name."

Jace smiled. "That sounds nice."

"You could come with me."

The words came out naturally, easily. Of course Jace would come. You couldn't imagine going anywhere without him.

"Yeah," he said, and something in his voice made you look at him. "I could."

For a moment, you just looked at each other. Then Aegon's voice echoed from somewhere in the gardens, calling your name, and you both jumped up.

"We should go," you said.

"Yeah."

But as you walked back toward the Keep together, Jace reached out and took your hand. It wasn't unusual, you held hands all the time, but something about it felt different today. Important. You squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back, and neither of you let go until you absolutely had to.

By the time you were eleven, people had started to notice how close you were. Not in a bad way, not yet. Just... noticing.

"Those two are inseparable," you'd heard a servant say once.

"Like two peas in a pod," another had agreed, smiling.

It was true. You and Jace did everything together. Lessons, meals, dragon riding, exploring the castle. When you weren't together, you were thinking about when you'd see him next.

The first real moment of awareness came during a feast celebrating your father's nameday. The Great Hall was packed with nobles, the tables laden with food and wine. You were seated with your family at the high table, Jace and his family several seats away. You'd been glancing at him all evening, and more than once you'd caught him looking back.

After the meal, when the musicians began to play, your father called for dancing. Lords and ladies flooded the floor.

You didn't think about it. You just stood up, walked across the hall to where Jace was standing with Luke, and said, "Dance with me."

Jace's eyes widened. "What?"

"Everyone's dancing. Come on."

So Jace took your hand and led you onto the floor.

The moment his hand settled on your waist, something shifted. You were eleven, and he was twelve, and suddenly you were very aware of how close you were standing. You could feel the warmth of his palm through the fabric of your dress. Could see the way his dark eyes caught the candlelight.

"You're staring," he murmured as you began to move.

"So are you."

He smiled, and your heart did something strange in your chest. Something you'd never felt before.

You danced through two songs, and it felt like flying. Jace was a good dancer, better than your brothers, and he led you effortlessly across the floor. You were laughing at something he'd said when you noticed your mother watching from the high table.

Your laughter faded.

"What's wrong?" Jace asked immediately.

"My mother. She's staring."

Jace glanced over, then back at you. "Should we stop?"

You didn't want to stop. Didn't want to let go of him. But something in your mother's expression made you nervous.

"Maybe we should," you said reluctantly.

Jace nodded and led you off the floor. As you parted ways, him returning to his family, you to yours, you felt the loss of his touch like something physical.

That night, your mother came to your chambers.

"You danced with Prince Jacerys tonight," she said.

"Yes." You kept your voice steady. "We were just dancing, Mother. Everyone was dancing."

"I know." She sat on the edge of your bed. "But you must be careful. You're both growing up. People notice things. They talk."

"About what? We're friends."

"I know you are." Her expression softened. "And I'm glad. But as you get older, people may... misunderstand. Do you see?"

You didn't, really. But you nodded anyway.

"Yes, Mother."

She kissed your forehead and left, and you lay awake for a long time, thinking about the way Jace's hand had felt on your hip. The way your heart had raced when he smiled at you.

You didn't understand what was happening. You just knew that something had changed.

The second moment came in the library. You'd been studying with Jace and Luke, working through a particularly boring text, when Luke announced he needed to use the privy.

"Don't do anything interesting while I'm gone," he said, grinning as he left.

The moment he was gone, you and Jace looked at each other.

"Finally," Jace said. "I thought he'd never leave."

You laughed. "He's not that bad."

"He's my brother. He's always that bad." Jace shifted closer to you on the bench. "I feel like we never get to just talk anymore. There's always someone around."

It was true. Between lessons and meals and duties, you were rarely alone together anymore.

"I miss it," you admitted. "Our spot in the gardens. Just us."

"Me too."

Jace reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. It was a simple gesture, he'd done it a hundred times before, but this time it made your breath catch. Made your skin feel warm where his fingers had touched.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his hand lingering near your cheek.

"Yes. I just-" You didn't know how to explain it. "I don't know."

Jace's hand dropped, but he was still sitting close. Close enough that your shoulders were touching. Close enough that you could feel the warmth of him.

"Sometimes I feel strange," he said quietly. "When I'm around you. Like... I don't know. Different."

"Different how?"

"I don't know how to explain it." He looked at you, and there was something in his eyes you'd never seen before. Something that made your heart race. "Do you ever feel like that?"

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

Then you heard footsteps in the corridor outside, and you both jerked apart just as Maester Mellos entered.

"Ah, Princess, Prince Jacerys," he said. "Still studying, I see. Excellent."

"Yes, Maester," you managed.

But your heart was still racing, and when you glanced at Jace, you saw that his hands were shaking slightly.

Something was happening between you. Something you didn't have words for yet. Something that felt both wonderful and terrifying.

By the time you turned thirteen, the confusion had grown into something you couldn't ignore anymore.

You'd started spending more time in the Dragonpit, partly because you loved flying, and partly because you knew Jace would be there. Your dragon, Starfyre, was beautiful, scales that shimmered like moonlight on water. She was smaller than Vermax, Jace's dragon, but faster.

The dragons seemed to understand something you didn't. The way Starfyre would croon softly whenever Jace approached. The way Vermax would lower his head for you to scratch behind his horns.

"I think they like each other," Jace said one afternoon as you watched the two dragons curl up together, Starfyre's head resting on Vermax's flank.

"Of course they do," you said. "They're ours."

Jace looked at you, and something in his expression made your stomach flip. "Ours," he repeated softly.

The word felt heavy. Important.

"Race you to the cliffs?" you said quickly, needing to break whatever was building between you.

Jace grinned. "You're going to lose."

"We'll see about that."

The moment you were airborne, everything else fell away. Up here, it was just you and Jace and the endless sky. No confusion, no strange feelings you couldn't name, just freedom.

Starfyre shot forward, her wings cutting through the air. You leaned low against her neck, laughing as the wind whipped your hair back. Behind you, you could hear Jace shouting something, but his words were lost to the wind.

You reached the cliffs first. Jace arrived moments later, and when he slid off Vermax's back, he was grinning.

"You cheated," he said, walking over to you.

"I did not!"

"You had a head start."

"That's called strategy."

He stopped in front of you, close enough that you had to tilt your head back to look at him. When had he gotten so tall?

"You're impossible," he said, but he was smiling.

"And you're a sore loser."

For a moment, neither of you moved. The air between you felt charged, heavy. Jace's gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes, and suddenly your heart was racing for reasons that had nothing to do with the flight.

You didn't understand what was happening. Just that something was.

Then Vermax huffed, breaking the moment, and Jace stepped back.

"Let’s head back," he said quietly.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

But as you flew back to the Red Keep, you couldn't stop thinking about the way Jace had looked at you. The way your whole body had felt warm and strange and alive. That night, you couldn't sleep. You kept thinking about Jace, the way he smiled, the way his voice sounded when he said your name, the way your heart raced whenever he was near.

Finally, you gave up on sleep and slipped him a message under his door: Meet me in our spot. Midnight.

He came. Of course he came.

You were sitting on the stone bench when he appeared through the hedge, slightly out of breath.

"Is everything all right?" he asked immediately.

"I don't know," you admitted. "I just... I needed to see you."

Jace sat beside you, close enough that your shoulders touched. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. I just-" You took a breath. "Do you ever think about the future?"

"Sometimes."

"What do you see?"

Jace was quiet for a moment. "I see Driftmark. My mother as Queen. Duty and responsibility." He paused. "And you. I always see you."

Your heart stopped. "Me?"

"I can't imagine a future without you in it," he said simply. "I don't want to."

"I feel the same way," you whispered. "About you."

Jace turned to look at you, and in the moonlight his eyes were almost black. "Sometimes I feel like... like there's something I'm supposed to understand. About us. But I don't know what it is."

"Me too."

"Do you think-" He stopped, then started again. "Do you think we're different? From other people?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean the way we are together. The way I feel when I'm with you. Is that... normal?"

You didn't know. You'd never felt this way about anyone else. Didn't know if other people felt this way about their friends.

"I don't know," you admitted. "But I don't care. I just know that being with you feels right."

"Yeah," Jace said softly. "It does."

You sat there in silence for a while, your shoulders touching, both of you trying to understand something you didn't have words for yet.

Finally, Jace stood. "We should go back. Before someone notices we're gone."

You nodded and stood too. But before you could leave, Jace reached out and pulled you into a hug.

It wasn't unusual, you hugged all the time. But this was different. Tighter. More desperate. Like he was trying to hold onto something he was afraid of losing.

"Goodnight," he whispered against your hair.

"Goodnight."

You pulled apart, and for just a moment, Jace's hand lingered on your cheek. His thumb brushed your cheekbone, and your breath caught.

Then he was gone, disappearing through the hedge, and you were left standing there with your heart racing and your skin tingling where he'd touched you.

By fourteen, the confusion had crystallized into something sharper. Something that made your chest ache and your hands shake and your thoughts scatter whenever Jace was near.

You'd started noticing things you'd never noticed before. The way his voice had deepened. The way his shoulders had broadened. The way he looked at you sometimes, like he was trying to figure something out.

Your mother's warnings had become more frequent.

"You're spending too much time with Prince Jacerys," she'd say. "People are starting to talk."

"We're just friends, Mother."

"I know. But you're both growing up. It's... different now."

You didn't want it to be different. You wanted things to stay the way they'd always been, simple and easy and right. But they weren't. Not anymore.

It was late spring when everything changed.

You'd been sitting in your secret spot in the gardens, reading, when Jace appeared through the hedge.

"I've been looking for you," he said.

You set your book aside. "I needed some air."

Jace sat beside you, and you were immediately aware of how close he was. Close enough that you could feel the warmth of him. Close enough that your heart started racing.

"I've been thinking," he said quietly.

"About what?"

"About us." He turned to look at you. "About the way I feel when I'm with you."

Your breath caught. "Jace-"

"I don't understand it," he continued. "I don't know what it means. But I know that when I'm with you, everything feels... right. And when I'm not with you, I feel like something's missing."

"I feel that way too," you whispered.

"Do you?" His eyes searched yours. "Because sometimes I think I'm going mad. Sometimes I think about you so much I can't concentrate on anything else. And I don't know if that's normal or if there's something wrong with me-"

"There's nothing wrong with you."

"Then what is this?" His voice was almost desperate. "What are we?"

You didn't know. You just knew that whatever it was, it was important. Essential.

"I don't know," you admitted. "But I don't want it to stop."

Jace's gaze dropped to your lips, and suddenly the air between you felt charged. Heavy.

"Can I-" He stopped, swallowed. "Can I try something?"

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

Jace leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull away. But you didn't. You couldn't. When his lips touched yours, it was soft. Tentative. Uncertain. It felt like everything was clicking into place.

You made a small sound, surprise or relief or something else entirely and Jace pulled back, his eyes wide.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I shouldn't have-"

You kissed him again.

This time it was less tentative. More certain. Your hands came up to grip his tunic, and his hands framed your face, and for a moment the whole world narrowed down to just this, just him, just you, just this feeling of rightness. When you finally pulled apart, you were both breathing hard.

"What was that?" you whispered.

"I don't know." Jace's forehead pressed against yours. "But I think, I think maybe this is what people mean when they talk about,"

He didn't finish the sentence. Didn't need to, you understood. This wasn't just friendship anymore. Wasn't just closeness. This was something else.

"We can't tell anyone," you said quietly.

"I know."

"If they found out-"

"I know."

But neither of you moved. You stayed there, foreheads pressed together, trying to understand what had just happened. Trying to understand what it meant. You'd just had your first real kiss and nothing would ever be the same again.

The next year passed in a haze of stolen moments and growing desperation.

Now that you understood what you felt, now that you had a name for it, everything was different. Every touch felt charged. Every look felt weighted. Every moment together felt both precious and dangerous.

You were fifteen, and Jace was sixteen, and you were in love. The word terrified you. But it was true.

You'd meet in the gardens late at night, when the rest of the court was asleep. You'd find excuses to be alone together, a ride to the Dragonpit, a walk along the battlements, a quiet corner of the library.

And you'd kiss. Gods, you'd kiss.

Every kiss felt like it might be your last. Every touch was tinged with the knowledge that this couldn't last forever.

"I hate this," Jace said one night. You were in your secret spot, his arms wrapped around you. "I hate that we have to hide."

"I know."

"I want to tell everyone. I want to claim you properly."

"We can't."

"I know." His grip tightened. "But I want to."

You pulled back to look at him. "What do you think would happen? If they found out?"

Jace's jaw clenched. "Nothing good."

"They'd separate us."

"Yes."

"They'd marry us off to other people."

"Yes."

The thought made you feel sick. The idea of being married to someone else, of belonging to someone else, of never being able to touch Jace again…

"We'll be careful," you said. "We'll be so careful they'll never know."

But you both knew it was only a matter of time.

The stolen moments became more frequent. More desperate. You developed new signals, new ways of communicating without words. A particular way of folding a napkin at dinner that meant meet me tonight. A certain book left on a specific shelf in the library that meant I need to see you. A flower tucked behind your ear that meant I'm thinking about you.

Helaena noticed, of course. She always noticed.

"The moths are drawn to flame," she said one afternoon while you were embroidering together. "Even though they know it will burn them."

You looked up sharply. "What?"

But Helaena had already drifted away, her attention back on her needlework. Helaena never said anything directly. She just made her cryptic comments and watched you with those pale, knowing eyes.

You were sixteen when Jace told you he loved you.

It was a warm summer night, and you were lying in the grass together in your hidden spot. The stars were bright overhead, and Jace's hand was intertwined with yours.

"I love you," he said suddenly.

You turned to look at him, your heart in your throat.

"I know I shouldn't say it," he continued. "I know this is impossible. But I love you. I've loved you for so long I can't remember when it started."

Tears pricked your eyes. "Jace-"

"You don't have to say it back. I just needed you to know."

But you did say it back. Because it was true. Because you'd been carrying it inside you for years, this huge, impossible feeling.

"I love you too," you whispered.

Jace pulled you into his arms, holding you so tightly it almost hurt. You buried your face in his chest, breathing in the scent of him, smoke and leather and something uniquely Jace.

"What are we going to do?" you asked.

"I don't know."

"They'll never let us be together."

"I know."

You pulled back to look at him. "Then we'll take what we can. However long we have, whatever moments we can steal, we'll take them."

Jace kissed you then, slow and deep and full of promise. His hands slid down your sides, and you arched into his touch, wanting more of him, needing more.

But he pulled back, his breathing ragged. "Not yet. Not like this. When we, if we, I want it to be right."

You nodded, even though your body ached with wanting him.

"One day," he promised. "When we're free of all this. One day I'll make you mine properly, under an arch with flowers and food… Maybe I’ll even buy you a horse."

You kissed him again, softer this time. "I'm already yours, Jace. I always have been."

But freedom never came.

The months passed, and the political situation grew more tense. Rhaenyra's position as heir was constantly challenged. Aegon grew more resentful. Aemond became harder, more ambitious and you and Jace continued to steal moments whenever you could, knowing that time was running out.

The desperation grew with each passing week. Every kiss felt like it might be your last. Every touch was tinged with the knowledge that this couldn't last forever.

"I hate this," Jace said one night, his voice breaking. You were in the gardens again, his arms wrapped around you. "I want to marry you. I want to wake up beside you every morning. I want to have a life with you."

Your vision blurred with emotion. "I want that too."

The reality of it was crushing. You were a princess, a valuable political pawn. He was Rhaenyra's heir, his future already mapped out. There was no world in which you could be together openly.

"Promise me something," Jace said, pulling back to look at you.

"Anything."

"Promise me that no matter what happens, no matter who they make you marry, no matter where life takes us, you'll remember this. Remember us."

"I could never forget," you whispered. "Even if I wanted to."

He kissed you then, desperate and aching, and you kissed him back with everything you had because you both knew, deep down, that the end was coming. Chapter 2.

yeiowrites

for the kingdom: part I

summary: being the youngest daughter of alicent, you hadn’t known what it was like to feel restraint until you had been betrothed to the eldest son of queen rhaenyra for a pact. for who? for the kingdom.

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x targaryen!reader

warnings/notes: eventual smut (none in this part), mild enemies/rivals to lovers, tension tension tension, arranged marriage, mentions of incest (helaena & aegon), mature themes, sort of toxic relationship i guess, more in the following parts

part: I, II, III, IV

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