bree

19 - french - jacaerys' wife (he's alive btw)

[breesfics]

bree's navigation

ᢉ𐭩 welcome to my blogᢉ𐭩

my name is bree (she/her), I'm 19 years old, french (so if I make any typo or mistake please let me know) and I've always loved writing fanfiction, so thank you for stopping by!

any sort of discrimination, hatred, and bigotry is not welcome on this blog. fuck ai, fuck ice, fuck trump, fuck israel. dni if you support any of this.

guidelines

masterlist

[maybestrid33]

Scales and Blood

Jacaerys Velaryon x wife!reader - House of the Dragon

Summary: It starts as something almost laughable: a dragon who prefers his rider’s wife to his rider. But when a dragon decides something is his to guard, the world learns to step carefully around what he has chosen.

Warnings: 16+ morning after, brief nudity, possessive/protective Jace, pregnancy, control/protection, scary dragon and his rider who are both secretly softies, innuendo, non-graphic childbirth, huge time jumps

A/N: This got a lil out of hand, I admit. It was meant to be a short blurb, and yet here we are. Ik people wanted smut, so I added some morning after here, and I plan to write another smut-heavy fic next so dw.

MASTERLIST - REQUESTS (open) - WC: 4.7k

The storm had burned itself out sometime before dawn.

Now all that remained was the steady drip of rain from Dragonstone's black stone walls and the distant crash of waves below the cliffs. Pale morning light slipped through the narrow windows in soft ribbons, washing the chamber in silver.

You wake slowly.

Not necessarily because you're rested, but because you're warm. Far warmer than you ought to be beneath a blanket that had long since been kicked to the foot of the bed.

Jace is wrapped around you as though sometime during the night he'd decided that simply sleeping beside you wasn't close enough. One arm is draped securely across your waist, his face buried against the back of your shoulder, his breathing slow and even. His dark curls are a complete mess, and one bare leg has somehow become tangled with yours beneath the sheets.

You smile to yourself.

"You'll complain about your shoulder later," you murmur.

A sleepy sound, somewhere between a hum and a groan, vibrates against your skin.

"I'll survive." His voice is thick with sleep and his grip tightens just enough to pull you impossibly closer. There's something almost boyish about the way he says it, as though it's a victory in itself.

You turn carefully within the circle of his arms until you're facing him. The movement earns another sleepy complaint, though he makes no effort to let go.

Up close, you can still see the faint flush lingering across his cheeks from the warmth of the room. A thin scratch is visible beneath his collarbone, your own fault no doubt.

You remeber is so clearly, how the rain had battered against the windows, how the candles had guttered low, how his forehead was resting against yours while the storm rolled over Dragonstone. But inside your bed chamber, you'd barely noticed.

"You look terribly pleased with yourself," you say.

One eye opens. "Well, I married you, didn't I?"

"Your point being?"

"It happens to be something I am very pleased about." He studies you for a long moment. "I was thinking..." He continues, thumb brushing lazily over your bare waist. "That I should arrange for more storms."

"Oh?"

"They appear to encourage you to stay in bed."

Outside, somewhere beyond the window, comes the deep, familiar rumble of a dragon.

Jace sighs dramatically without lifting his head. "He's awake."

He presses a kiss to your forehead before finally, reluctantly, releasing you. "If Vermax has flown all the way here simply to interrupt my morning," he declares, "I shall have to remind him who hatched him."

You grin as you reach for the discarded shift lying somewhere beside the bed.

By the time you're both dressed the castle has begun to wake around you.

You trail a step behind Jace, fingers loosely hooked around his sleeve more out of habit than necessity. To be honest, it is a habit you've only recently allowed yourself.

When you first arrived as his wife, you had been painfully conscious of every eye that followed you through the castle.

The princess, the prince's bride. Too young, some had whispered when they thought you were out of earshot. Too sheltered or too soft for Dragonstone.

You had smiled through every greeting, learned every name you could remember, and prayed no one noticed how often you got lost in the twisting corridors of black stone.

Jace had noticed.

Three days after your wedding, he'd quietly taken your hand before supper and walked every hallway, pointing out hidden staircases, quicker routes, which doors stuck in damp weather and which windows gave the best view of Blackwater Bay.

"I cannot believe you've spent an entire afternoon making sure I know my way around the castle." You'd said that evening in your chambers.

"Why can't you believe it?"

"You drew me a map."

"It was an excellent map."

"It had little dragons."

"So you wouldn't get bored."

You laugh. "You named one after Lord Celtigar."

"That one looked particularly grumpy." He grins, a quick flash of satisfaction that softens his usually princely composure, and reaches for your hand.

In your mind, the heir to the Iron Throne ought to be careful, composed, forever aware of watching eyes. But Jace rarely seems to remember, or perhaps he simply doesn't care.

A pair of servants step into the corridor ahead.

The moment they see the two of you, they bow hurriedly. "My prince. Princess."

You smile in greeting, Jace nods once, polite but distracted.

Only after they've passed do you realize he never let go of your hand.

Not even for a moment.

"You know," you tease quietly, "there are people who might think you're terribly devoted."

"They'd be right." He looks at you then with a familiar softness, so unguarded it almost steals your breath.

His thumb brushes absentmindedly across your knuckles. "And I'm not inclined to stop simply because people are looking."

Before you can answer, a deep, resonant rumble rolls across the courtyard outside.

Jace exhales through his nose.

"There he is."

You cross toward one of the narrow windows overlooking the inner yard. Far below, Vermax has landed.

The young dragon stands with his wings half-folded, emerald scales still glistening from the night's rain. A pair of dragonkeepers are speaking to him from what they clearly believe is a safe distance.

Vermax is paying them absolutely no attention. Instead, his great head is tilted upward.

Toward this very window.

You laugh. "I think he's looking for you Jace."

Jace joins you at the window. "No."

He follows the dragon's gaze for a moment before the corners of his mouth twitch. "I think," he says with theatrical resignation, "he's looking for you."

As though to prove his point, Vermax lets out another low, expectant chirr, quieter than his earlier call.

You blink. "Surely not."

Down in the courtyard, Vermax chirrs again.

It becomes impossible to deny by the end of the week. Vermax has decided you belong to him.

"No," Jace says flatly one afternoon, watching the dragon nudge your shoulder with surprising delicacy. "Absolutely not."

You laugh, scratching beneath the smooth ridge of emerald scales where you've discovered he likes it best. "What has he done now?"

"He is stealing my wife."

As if personally offended by the accusation, Vermax lowers his head another inch until the broad curve of his snout is pressed insistently against your side.

Jace stares. "You see?"

"He wants attention."

"I gave him an entire sheep this morning."

You can't help the laugh that escapes you, and it echoes across the training yard, bright enough that even a pair of dragonkeepers glance over with amused smiles.

You and Jace turn to go back inside, but only make it perhaps ten paces before heavy footsteps thud softly behind you.

The dragon has stood and started following.

"Vermax."

He stops, tilting his head.

"You can't come into the castle."

It doesn't stop there.

If you choose to read beneath the old weirwood overlooking the sea, Vermax appears within the hour.

If you wander the beach collecting shells after supper, a shadow passes lazily overhead before circling back toward shore. When you look up, the dragon is gliding against the afternoon sky.

The dragon dips lower, just enough that the rush of displaced air sends your skirts fluttering.

You laugh and wave. High above, Vermax answers with a delighted trill.

One morning you step into the gardens alone, intending only to cut fresh lavender for your chambers. You have barely even filled half the basket when a familiar shadow rolls across the flowers.

Then comes the gentle, unmistakable whuff of warm dragon breath.

You don't even look up.

"Good morning, Vermax." The dragon answers with a contented rumble.

He settles himself just beyond the garden wall, folding his forelegs neatly beneath him.

And there he remains.

When Jace finds you nearly an hour later, basket overflowing with lavender, he stops dead.

"You've got to be joking."

"What?"

He points.

Vermax, his great head rests on crossed forelegs, one eye lazily cracked open just enough to keep you in sight.

You walk over, unable to resist stroking the smooth scales along Vermax's jaw.

Jace follows, and you shake your head, laughing, and slip your free hand into his. Immediately, Vermax opens both eyes.

He watches the joined hands for a long, silent moment. Then, with another deep, satisfied rumble, he closes them again.

A couple weeks later, Dragonstone is hosting a small gathering of sworn lords from the Crownlands. Nothing particularly grand, just an awful lot of petitions, trade disputes, and endless discussions that leave Jace rubbing his temples by supper.

You escape the hall as politely as you can.

"I shall only be a moment," you promise him.

His hand lingers around yours before he lets go. "I know."

"You'll survive without me, Jace, I promise."

The sea air is cooler outside. Rain still clings to the black stone, leaving everything smelling of salt and earth. You breathe deeply, grateful for the quiet after hours of smiling at strangers.

You don't notice the shadow until it passes overhead.

A heartbeat later, Vermax lands beyond the outer wall with enough force to make loose gravel dance across the ground.

"You again?" you laugh.

His answer is a soft chirr as he lowers his head, inviting the familiar scratch beneath his jaw.

You indulge him. "You know," you murmur, "your rider insists you're abandoning him."

You continue scratching him anyway.

The interruption comes quietly. "My princess."

You turn. One of the visiting lords, a pleasant enough man whose name escapes you, has stepped into the courtyard. He offers a courteous bow.

"I hoped I might thank you for your kindness at supper."

"You are very kind, my lord."

He smiles. "I confess Dragonstone is rather less… welcoming than I imagined."

You glance at the dragon. "I imagine it has nothing to do with the fire-breathing beats circling at all times."

The lord laughs and takes a step closer.

Vermax's head lifts. The movement is slow enough that, for a moment, no one notices. Until the rumbling begins. It vibrates through the stone beneath your feet and the lord stops mid-sentence.

His smile falters.

Vermax does not bare his teeth, he does not spread his wings, he simply fixes the man with one unblinking emerald eye.

The rumble deepens.

"My lady," the lord corrects takes an instinctive step backward.

The sound stops.

You blink.

"…That was odd."

The lord laughs a little too loudly. "I believe… I shall return inside."

You think little of it.

Until it happens again, and again, and again. Not only with strangers, but with servants and guards. Even dragonkeepers he has known since hatching.

If someone approaches you too quickly, Vermax appears.

If voices grow heated nearby, he materialises as though summoned by instinct alone. He has become a living wall of green scales between you and the rest of the world.

A fortnight passes.

The castle settles into its familiar rhythm, though Vermax never quite returns to his old habits.

If anything, he grows bolder.

By now, even the servants have stopped remarking upon it.

"Your shadow awaits you, Princess," one maid says one morning with a knowing smile.

You peer from the window. Sure enough, a pair of emerald eyes are already fixed expectantly on the tower.

You laugh. "I do believe I've been adopted."

That afternoon, the weather is fair.

Jace has escaped the council chambers looking thoroughly exhausted, finding you exactly where he expected, beneath the old windswept tree overlooking the cliffs, a book forgotten in your lap while Vermax dozes nearby.

Or appears to.

His eyes are closed.

One wing lies stretched lazily across the grass, shimmering green beneath the sun.

Jace watches while walking towards you, finally bending to kiss the top of your head. Then, without thinking, he reaches a hand toward you.

Vermax's eyes snap open.

The dragon rises in one smooth motion, slipping between you and Jace with astonishing precision. His great neck curves across the narrow space, not striking, not threatening, but blocking.

Jace freezes.

For one suspended heartbeat, neither moves.

The dragon's head turns slightly, one brilliant green eye fixed on his rider, Jace stares back.

"...Vermax."

The dragon lets out a low sound, as though asking something only he understands. Then, just as suddenly, he steps aside.

You blink. "What on earth was that?"

Jace doesn't answer, he is still looking at Vermax.

"I've never..." he murmurs.

"What?"

"He has never stood between us."

By evening, Jace has sought out the dragonkeepers; he wants an explanation.

The oldest among them is already waiting when Jace reaches the caverns.

He bows deeply.

"My prince."

"You've noticed." It is not a question.

The old man is silent for a long moment. "...Yes."

"Then tell me."

Another pause.

"There are tales." The dragonkeeper folds weathered hands before him. "And the tales are all I have."

Jace says nothing, but his jaw tightens.

The old man continues carefully. "Dragons know certain things before men do, sometimes."

"What things?"

"Danger." Jace nods once. "Weather." Another nod. "And..." The man hesitates. "Life."

Jace blinks. "...What do you mean?"

"There are old records. Rare ones. A dragon becoming unusually protective of a rider's wife. Of a queen. Of a princess."

"Protective?"

"They guard." The dragonkeeper's gaze drifts toward the mouth of the cavern, where Vermax sleeps beyond the fading light.

Jace remembers every strange moment of the past weeks and his heartbeat quickens.

"No."

"It is only a possibility."

"No."

"Has the princess been unwell?"

"...No."

"Has she been unusually tired?"

Jace opens his mouth. Closes it again.

"And..." the dragonkeeper says gently, "when did the dragon's behavior begin?"

Jace's mind races backwards until he finally remembers the storm. How Vermax had refused to leave the castle, had hovered outside their chambers, nudging him toward the tower when he'd intended to return to his studies.

He'd laughed. "Apparently, he has plans for us."

Three months, almost exactly.

The dragonkeeper watches the realisation settle over his prince's face. Quietly, he says, "I believe... it may be time to send for the maester."

Jace finds you in your solar not five minutes later. You look up from the embroidery in your lap, smiling the moment he steps through the door, but the smile falters almost immediately.

"Jace?"

His hair is windblown from crossing the castle at nearly a run, his expression unreadable in a way you've never quite seen before. He closes the door behind him without a word and simply looks at you, searching your face as though expecting to find something different.

"What is it?"

He crosses the room in three long strides and kneels before your chair, taking both your hands in his. "Have you felt unwell?"

You blink. "...No."

"Not at all?"

"A little tired, perhaps, but you've been working me through every feast and council dinner on Dragonstone." You smile faintly. "I assumed being a princess was simply quite exhausting."

His thumb traces absent circles across your knuckles. "And nothing else?"

"I've slept later than usual."

"You've always liked sleeping late."

You grin, leaning forward to whisper, "I do when my husband keeps me awake half the night."

The corner of his mouth twitches despite himself, though the smile never quite reaches his eyes. "When was your last moon's blood?"

You stare at him. "What?"

He doesn't repeat himself, and slowly, your own amusement fades. You set the embroidery aside. "I..." You pause, thinking. "I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"I've never had reason to count the days so carefully, Jace."

Silence settles between you. You begin counting backwards in your head, tracing feasts, journeys, the passing weeks. Your brows knit together. "A couple of weeks, maybe," you murmur. "I'm not sure."

His expression answers before he speaks. "The dragonkeepers believe Vermax sensed it."

You let out a disbelieving laugh. "Jace."

"They've seen it before."

"Surely they haven't."

"They swear they have."

You shake your head, trying to make sense of it. "So... because Vermax has decided to follow me everywhere..."

"And because he stood between us."

"...he thinks I'm carrying a child?"

"Yes."

You both fall quiet.

"Oh."

It is the only word you can manage, and Jace squeezes your hands.

"I've sent for the maester."

"You've... already?"

"He'll be here shortly."

The maester, when he finally arrives, is kind and discreet, far too accustomed to royal nerves to comment on the tension hanging in the room. He asks a handful of careful questions, his expression growing steadily more thoughtful with each answer.

When he rises from his examination, he folds his hands inside his sleeves and smiles.

"My prince."

Jace has been standing by the window the entire time.

"So?"

The old man inclines his head. "My congratulations."

The room falls completely still. You look at Jace. He looks at you. Neither of you speaks.

The maester continues, almost gently. "If my calculations are correct, Her Grace is nearing the end of her third month."

He leaves you with instructions about rest, diet, and avoiding undue strain, but you hear almost none of it, too focused on the way the room seems to have shrunk around you.

The door clicks shut.

Then Jace crosses the room so quickly that you barely have time to stand before his arms are around you. He buries his face against your hair, holding you so tightly it almost hurts.

You laugh through the tears threatening your eyes.

"I think..." Your voice catches. "I think we're going to have a baby."

He nods once against your shoulder, voice barely a whisper. "I know."

Jace's spiral into overprotectiveness begins with the reasonable things.

"No more riding."

You open your mouth to argue, but are stopped before any sound escapes by a single raised eyebrow.

The maester, entirely unhelpfully, agrees with him.

Then come the stairs.

"If no one is with you."

"Jace."

"They're uneven."

"They have been uneven for a hundred years."

He insists on taking your arm every time you descend them after that.

By the time your gowns no longer sit quite as they used to, he has become impossible.

Servants carry anything heavier than a book. Meals appear in your chambers if the Great Hall is too crowded. Councils are moved rather than asking you to cross the castle, and if you so much as mention feeling tired, Jace is already leading you back toward your rooms before you've finished the sentence.

"You know women have been having children since the beginning of time?"

"I am aware, yes."

"They don't all require an escort to the library."

"I don't care, because you will have one.

Once, you disappear for nearly an hour.

Jace finds you asleep in the late afternoon sun, curled against the warm curve of Vermax's foreleg with a book lying open across your lap.

The dragon is awake. His head rests protectively around you, just close enough to shelter you from the wind without touching.

At Jace's approach, one emerald eye opens. For a long moment, dragon and rider simply look at one another. Then Vermax lowers his head again.

You stir at the sound of footsteps, blinking sleepily up at your husband.

"There you are."

"I've been looking everywhere."

"I was comfortable."

"I can see that."

By the eighth month, you start to begrudingly appreciate Jace's over-the-top efforts.

"I cannot reach my boots."

Jace looks up from the letter he'd been pretending to read. "You reached them yesterday."

"I was smaller yesterday."

He watches you glare down at the impossible curve of your stomach as though sheer determination might convince it to move. After another unsuccessful attempt, you huff dramatically and fold your arms.

"This child is already causing problems."

"Our child," Jace corrects.

"Our child," you sigh, "has stolen my feet."

A smile threatens at the corners of his mouth. With the patience of a man who has accepted this as his fate, he sets the letter aside and kneels in front of you.

"Oh, don't you dare."

"You said you couldn't reach."

"I did not ask you to-"

"You were about to."

He lifts one foot gently onto his knee and makes quick work of the laces.

"Jace, you don't have to do everything you know."

"I know."

"So why do you?"

He finishes tying the second boot before looking up at you. "Because I like taking care of my wife."

A number of weeks later the castle wakes before dawn to the sound of a dragon.

Not roaring; pacing.

The heavy scrape of claws against stone echoes through the courtyard, followed by a low, restless rumble that seems to vibrate through the walls of Dragonstone itself.

You stir beneath the blankets, still half asleep. "...He's at it again."

Beside you, Jace groans into his pillow. "If he has frightened another stableboy, I swear on all that is holy-"

Another rumble.

Closer this time. Longer, almost a whine in nature.

Jace sits up. "...That's odd."

For the past several months Vermax has scarcely left the courtyard beneath your chambers, but he has always been quiet. Content simply to stand and watch.

The windows rattle faintly as his tail sweeps across the stone.

Jace is already pulling on a tunic. "I'll see what's wrong."

You nod, pushing yourself upright with considerably more effort than dignity. He smiles over his shoulder as he ducks out of the room, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

The courtyard is in chaos.

Dragonkeepers stand well back from Vermax, speaking to him in soothing High Valyrian that goes utterly ignored. The dragon paces in tight circles, wings half-spread, head swinging constantly toward the tower above.

One keeper catches sight of Jace.

"My prince."

"What happened?"

"We don't know."

Vermax notices his rider. Instead of calming, the dragon lets out another deep, agitated rumble and immediately turns toward the tower again, toward your chambers. Then, he stamps a forefoot. Hard enough that dust shakes from the walls.

Up in the tower, you're sitting and waiting for Jace when pain tightens unexpectedly across your abdomen.

You stop halfway across the chamber, one hand finding the edge of the table. "...Hm."

The feeling passes as quickly as it came.

Outside, Vermax lets out the loudest cry you've ever heard him make. It rolls across the cliffs and back again.

You freeze before calling out. "...Jace?"

He is already taking the stairs two at a time. He bursts through the chamber doors moments later, slightly out of breath.

Before he can speak, another wave rolls through you. Your hand flies instinctively to your stomach.

Jace's face drains of colour. "What is it?"

"I..." You breathe carefully. "I think..."

Another pause. Then, despite yourself, you laugh. "I think Vermax has solved another mystery."

For one heartbeat Jace simply stares.

Then his eyes widen.

"No."

"I think so."

As if the universe itself objects to his denial, another wave steals your breath. You grip the bedpost but Jace is at your side before you can blink, one arm already around your waist.

"The maester."

His voice comes out far calmer than his expression.

"Someone fetch the maester!"

Outside, Vermax finally stops pacing.

He lowers himself heavily onto the black stone directly beneath your windows, refusing every attempt by the dragonkeepers to coax him away.

His head remains lifted toward the tower.

After hours of pain and effort the world slowly comes back into focus in pieces.

Sound first; soft voices, the distant rush of the sea, the occasional crackle of the hearth. Then warmth pressed against your side. You blink against the haze of exhaustion and find yourself surrounded by dim candlelight and movement that feels almost too gentle for how loud everything had just been.

Jace is here.

He’s sitting half on the edge of the bed, hair dishevelled, sleeves rolled up wrong, a smear of something dark on his cuff that you vaguely decide not to think about too hard. His eyes are fixed on you with a kind of stunned intensity, as if he’s afraid that if he looks away for even a second, this will all vanish.

“You’re shaking,” you murmur, though your own voice barely holds together.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

A beat of silence passes between you before he exhales and finally lets himself lean forward, pressing a careful kiss against your forehead.

“And him?” he asks, like he’s been holding the question in his teeth for hours.

You don’t even need to answer. The little bundle in your arms shifts slightly, a tiny sound breaking through the quiet and Jace goes utterly still. His gaze drops to the child as though he’s afraid it might disappear if he stares too hard.

“He's beautiful,” he says finally.

You adjust the blanket slightly, and the baby nestles closer, face scrunching briefly before settling again. Jace makes a sound that is halfway between a laugh and something dangerously close to breaking.

“I don’t-” he starts, then stops, swallowing. “I didn’t think it would feel like this.”

“You thought it would feel like what?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. His hand hovers near the bundle, stops short, then retreats again like he’s not sure he’s allowed.

“Louder,” he admits.

You huff a weak laugh. “I'm not sure it'll stay this quiet, so we should probably try to enjoy it while it lasts.”

He finally looks at you again, and there’s something undone in his expression that you’ve never seen before. “I need to see him,” he says.

You tilt your head slightly. “You’ve been staring at him for an hour.”

“Alright, I need to hold him.”

You carefully shift the baby into his arms. It’s awkward at first, Jace holding himself too rigid, like he’s afraid of doing it wrong, like one wrong breath might undo everything, but then the child settles against him and something in his shoulders breaks open.

He exhales, slow and unsteady. There’s a long silence where he doesn’t say anything at all.

Then, barely audible, “I can't believe he’s mine.”

You smile faintly. “Yes.”

Jace looks down again, thumb brushing so lightly over the baby’s cheek it’s almost not there. “He looks…” He pauses, helpless. “He looks like he knows things already.”

“That’s probably just you projecting.”

Outside the window, a deep sound rolls through the cliffs. Jace’s head lifts instantly.

“Oh.”

Jace carefully adjusts his grip on the baby, like he’s handling something far more fragile than steel and fire could ever be.

“I should-” he starts.

You raise an eyebrow. “You should what?”

He’s already standing. “I should show him.”

You blink at him. “Jace.”

But he’s not really listening anymore. Not in the way he used to, at least. This is something else, instinctive and almost urgent.

“Jace, it’s freezing outside.”

“I’ll be quick.”

So you watch him wrap a cloak around himself and the baby like it’s the most natural thing in the world, then walk out of the room.

By the time he reaches the courtyard, Vermax is already there.

The dragon is enormous against the grey morning sky, wings folded, tail curled tightly around the stone like he’s been rooted there for hours. When he sees Jace, he doesn’t move at first.

Then Jace steps into the open.

Vermax’s head lowers immediately.

Jace stops a few paces away, breathing uneven, then lifts the bundle higher against his chest.

“This is my son.”

Vermax steps forward, so carefully. The ground still trembles slightly beneath the weight of him, but he is impossibly gentle as he lowers his head until he’s level with Jace’s arms. One massive eye focuses on the tiny face within the blanket.

For a long moment, he does nothing.

Then he exhales. Warm air, slow and careful, brushes over the child like a blessing.

The baby stirs, and Vermax freezes instantly.

Jace laughs under his breath, disbelieving and wrecked all at once. “It’s alright,” he murmurs. “He’s yours too, apparently.”

The dragon makes a soft, almost questioning sound, then lowers himself further until his forehead rests against the stone directly in front of them, as if offering something wordless and absolute.

Jace finally looks up at him properly, smiling.

“Say hello,” he whispers.

Vermax answers with a quiet, reverent rumble that rolls out across Dragonstone.

this was too cute, idk where the idea came from but i needed some vermax jace fluff

[breesfics]

WHY IS HE HERE?

pairing: modern!aerion targaryen x fem!reader

summary: there were many things you expected when you got into a relationship with aerion targaryen. of course, none of those included his youngest brother, aegon — or egg, as he liked to be called — and how he began interrupting any sort of alone time you had with your boyfriend, all because he ended up liking you so much.

w.c.: 3,6k

c.w.: no use of y/n, aerion is always two seconds away from kicking egg's ass bc he doesn't leave you alone, probably (definitely) ooc aerion and ooc egg, egg is an ipad kid, not rlly a serious fic I wrote this for gits and shiggles

a.n.: first fic on tumblr so im intimidated lol. english is not my first language so forgive any mistakes and typo. not proofread.

THE MOMENT YOU GOT INTO A RELATIONSHIP WITH AERION TARGARYEN, you knew what it would involve, more or less. More than one of your friends and acquaintances — some of his, even — had reached out to you to ask if you were sure of what you were doing, and saying he wasn't exactly... well, the most gentle person.

As much as you appreciated their worry, it was unnecessary, something even they had come to realize after seeing how Aerion was with you.

He was as loving to you as he was not to everyone else, and though you somehow tamed the rushes of anger that always coursed through him, he still had a rather minimal tolerance for the rest of the world. Including his brothers. Especially his brothers.

Especially Aegon.

The youngest of his brothers had become an issue neither of you had expected prior to him meeting you.

It had taken some time before Aerion decided to introduce you to his family, and seeing as you weren't one to push, the most his brothers knew of you for exactly four months after you officially got together was your name — after Aerion accidentally left his phone on the table, and a notification from you revealed your name to Daeron, who saw no appeal in protecting his brother's privacy.

And when Aerion texted you one night, asking if you'd be okay with meeting his family — so they'll finally get off my ass about this, he had said —, you saw no issue with it, and thus a dinner was planned.

The instant the two of you entered his dining room, your eyes had gone over each attending member of his family: his three brothers, his two sisters, his father, his uncle, and his two cousins. And the air was knocked out of your lungs.

They all had an unnatural kind of beauty to them. Most of them shared Aerion's silver hair and purple eyes, but even those that didn't appeared to come from another world.

Aerion had cursed under his breath, muttering about how if he had known half the family would be called, he'd have bailed on this whole thing. But you had maintained your composure, painted a smile on your face, and met his family with forcibly-steadied hands and a thumping heart in your chest.

In retrospect, there really had been no need for you to stress over this so much. As intimidating as the Targaryens were, they were all mostly nice and very charming to be around, and in the blink of an eye, you'd found your place among them.

But credit must be given where it was due. If it hadn't been for the youngest boy, Aegon, you would have taken a lot longer to get comfortable.

His seat had been directly to your left, and he had chatted your ear off all through dinner. All the names, relations and little fun facts you knew about the Targaryens came from him. He had even ended up pulling his iPad beneath the table to show pictures of the events he was telling you all about.

Aerion hadn't shied away from expressing his annoyance at the extravagance of the dinner, which nobody showed any surprise to. He mostly stuck to your side, chatting with you in the brief moments Aegon's attention was elsewhere.

Regardless, the dinner had gone well, and with this particular milestone out of the way, the two of you could finally relax and enjoy each other's company the way you so loved: privately and without shame.

However, Egg didn't seem to have gotten the memo.

"Oh, not this again —” Aerion hissed as he returned to the large living room of the Targaryen home — castle felt more accurate to you, but oh well — with a bowl of popcorn in one hand and two drinks in the other. He stopped in his tracks right at the doorway, when his eyes found the little figure sitting next to you, which had not been there when he left five minutes ago. "What the fuck is he doing here?"

Your eyes widening at his words, you opened your mouth to scold him for swearing in front of the nine year old, but said nine year old merely perked up at his brother's voice and turned his head around to look at Aerion from where he sat on the couch.

"Did you bring my chips? I left them in the fridge."

"No! Get out!"

Even you flinched at the volume and tone of his voice, so it was no surprise when Egg leaned back in his seat, his arms crossed over his chest, a sad pout twisting his young features. And in spite of how much you enjoyed being alone with Aerion, you felt a tug at your heartstrings from the sight of the expression on his face.

Wincing, you glanced at your boyfriend, a pleading look in your eyes. "Well..."

"No."

"Just this time."

"You said that last time."

"He's already here."

"He's always here!"

"Aerion."

"No. Not happening."

Silence fell upon the living room, your eyes meeting Aerion's purple ones with determination. Obviously, you understood where he came from, but you couldn't help it. Egg was such a sweet little boy, and he was always so nice and adorable that you couldn't help but cave to his every wish.

And five minutes later, the three of you sat in front of the TV, Egg in the middle happily munching on the popcorns from the bowl on his lap, often turning to you to share his thoughts about the movie.

"Why Egg?"

"It's short for Aegon," he nodded vigorously and looked away from you.

"Yeah, I figured that part out —”

Like any normal person with a functioning brain, you loved making out with your boyfriend. He was hot, and you were in love with him, so it wasn't like it was a chore for you. Nor was it for him, based on the blurry, heated memories that suddenly came to mind.

Maybe doing it out in public was less understandable, though. But after he had placed all the shopping bags you'd handed him over the afternoon in the backseat of his car, he had pulled you into short kiss, which then became a long one, and somewhere between that and now, it had turned into something else.

Neither of you noticed when Aerion's phone began vibrating in his pocket for a couple of minutes. And when he finally did realize, he had to pull his hands out from under your shirt to declined with an irritated huff.

Then he paused, glanced at his screen for a few seconds, huffed again and answered the phone.

"No fucking way," he ended up spouting after a few back and forth between him and whoever was on the other side of that call.

"He'll be fine there for a few hours." He argued again, "There's all the teachers, and toys, and all the shit kids play with."

Oh, it had to be about Egg.

“Dad —! Can’t you ask Daeron—?” He paused again, listening to his father, and without another word hung up the phone and shoved it in his pocket once more.

Holding back a laugh at the sheer rage painted on his face, you leaned against the car and cocked an eyebrow. “So? What was all that about?”

“My father’s meeting ran late. He’s asking me to pick Aegon up from school.”

“Okay, then.” You nodded, your body shifting to reach for the handle of the passenger door, but Aerion grabbed your wrist before you could do so.

“It’s Aegon.” He insisted, as though it would somehow change something about the situation.

You frowned, slowly nodding. “Tiny nine year old boy, silver hair, purple eyes, looks a lot like you? Yeah, I know the one.”

Rolling his eyes at your tone, Aerion let out a breath filled with annoyance. “I don’t have time to drive you home before picking him up.”

“I know.”

“So he’ll be in the car… with us… for the whole journey back home.”

“I also know that.”

And then his patience ran out, and he groaned, narrowing his eyes at you. “I’m saying the little shit will be glued to your ass.”

Which… yeah. True.

You didn’t mind, because Egg was still as sweet as he was when you first met him. Aerion did mind, however, since he was the one left out whenever the two — three — of you hung out together.

“You’re not jealous, are you?”

“Of him?”

“Yes, Aerion, of your nine year old brother.” You giggled, crossing your arms over your chest. “Seriously, though, you don’t have to be so mean to him. We’re always together. What’s the issue with him sometimes crashing with us?”

To this, he had no answer. He just rolled his eyes to the sky in this irritating yet charming way he did and released your wrist. He opened your door without a word, closing it behind you before walking to his side of the car.

“If it hadn’t been for that bastard, I would’ve won the game.”

Choking on your water, you turned to Egg with wide eyes, “Aegon!”

“What? The bastard cheated! All facts.”

“Oh, do you think they have the lemon sweets? You know the ones.”

Aerion frowned, briefly glancing at you before looking back at the road. “I don’t know, I’ll check when we get there.”

“Ooh, can I come?” Egg peaked his head in between both of yours, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Please?”

“No.” Aerion grumbled before using his hand to press against Egg’s face and push him back in his seat. “Shut up.”

Relentless, Egg turned to you. “Please?”

“No.” Aerion answered in your place.

“I didn’t ask you!” Egg scoffed from the back, glaring at the back of his brother’s head.

“I’m driving, and if I have to drag your puny little ass home by the ear, I will. Now shut up.”

Perhaps the whole reason the Targaryen house sat surrounded by gates and greenery was so strangers wouldn’t witness Aerion dragging Egg by the arm across the driveway, the young boy having planted his feet in the ground and screaming bloody murder for the whole world to hear, the way you did right now from the passenger seat of Aerion’s car.

You hadn’t gone to Aerion’s house in quite some time, you realized. There was no need to ask Aerion why he suddenly insisted on sleeping over at your place, or going home to yours, or him crashing over in your bedroom whenever he was free.

Were you complaining about your Egg-free life? Not really. Or at least, not right now, when Aerion lied on top of you, stealing your words with his mouth, barely letting you come up for air.

Definitely not right now.

You could've stayed there, in this situation, until the world imploded on itself. Nothing could bring either of you out of this bubble you'd formed around yourselves; that was how good you currently had it.

But right as his touch left flaming paths on your flesh as his fingers mapped out every inch of your skin, your phone began vibrating.

Not once.

Not twice.

But repeatedly, until you couldn't discern one notification from the next.

"Damn it," you sighed, closing your eyes as the moment between the two of you slipped right through your fingers. Aerion didn't raise his head higher than an inch above yours, but the annoyance coming from him was almost palpable.

You reached your arm out towards your nightstand, where you could vaguely remember having dropped your phone on some time ago. The light that suddenly blinded you as you lifted it from where it sat face down made you wince, and you used your free hand to rub your eyes.

do you want to play with me?

i'd ask daeron but he's asleep on the rug

he's boring also

you're nto

not

are you sleeping?

you haven't been at the house in a long time

did you breka up with aerion?

break

"Why the fuck do you have his number?" Aerion breathed out, exasperated at the texts. "Since when does he even have a number? He's nine."

Shrugging, you began typing a reply on your phone. "He got my number from your phone. And he just likes telling me about his day. He complains a lot about the kids in his class. Doesn't like them much."

With widened eyes and a raised eyebrow, Aerion sat up on your bed, letting the coldness of the room rush to you now that he wasn't acting as your personal blanket.

"What? So this is a common thing?"

"It's not that bad. He FaceTimes me on his iPad mostly, then he'll talk about his day while I do my homework, that's all." You told him, lifting yourself up on your elbows.

"Does my dad know about this?"

Nodding, you shrugged again. "Yeah, Egg's iPad uses your dad's phone number. He doesn't mind, so long as Egg doesn't uses it too much. He even says it's safer that way, since he doesn't have to watch him to make sure he doesn't sneak out again."

“I... don't know how I feel about this whole thing.”

“Well it’s not just him. I play online scrabble with your dad sometimes. and Aemon sends me book recommendations every other day.”

Aerion paused, "What?”

"Why is he bald, by the way? Can I ask?"

"Daeron drunkenly shaved off half his head one night. Then it looked awful, so we had to shave off the other half. Look."

Unsurprisingly, the boy displayed in the 0.5x pictures didn't seem to car about the admittedly horrifying hairstyle he currently had. With Maekar looking exasperated in the background, Egg smiled and gave a thumbs up to the camera.

Aerion woke up to find your half of his bed empty. No sound came from the bathroom, and with the sheets being cold, he assumed you must've been out of bed for some time.

While part of him felt something akin to relief from how comfortable you were with his family and in his home — sometimes too much, he thought to himself as he remembered you admitting to playing online scrabble with his father —, it also came with the borderline hatred from how comfortable they were with you.

People usually don't have to share their girlfriends with their families, do they? Why does it feel more like they tolerate him just so they can spend time with you.

Especially the youngest, insolent rat whose face had brightened up when Aerion had asked if you could spend a week here while your building was being fumigated. He hadn't even cared when Aerion roared at him to stay the fuck away.

As expected, it had been hard to find some alone time with you, because wherever you were, your shadow was not far behind. You didn't mind, of course, because the little rat turned into the sweetest, most innocent boy that's ever lived whenever you were in the vicinity, which immediately made Aerion out to be the bad one of the story.

The tiny fucker was a manipulative little shit, and Aerion will find a way to prove it to you.

After a brief shower to wash the night away, Aerion made his way down to the kitchen, hoping you'd be there. Fortunately for him, the first thing his eyes latched onto upon entering the room was your figure.

You sat at the counter, back to him, eyes on your phone.

Approaching, he hummed and wrapped his arms around you, leaning down to bury his nose in your hair. "How long have you been up? I thought you'd be worn out after —”

Eyes going round, you jammed your elbow into his gut, immediately shushing him. Aerion groaned, one arm flying to press against his stomach, where he'd taken the brunt of your strength. "What the fuck?"

Without a word, you nodded towards the fridge, and he could only follow your gaze. The fridge was open, which he hadn't noticed, and —

"Ugh, why is he here?" The words came out in unison from the two boys as soon as Egg peeked his head from behind the fridge's door and met his gaze.

Pinching your lips to hold in a laugh, because surely Aerion would hate you if you pointed out just how similar the two were, you merely lowered your phone to watch whatever was about to unravel.

"I was here first!" Egg countered, closing the fridge with a pie in hand. "Go back to whatever hole you crawled out of."

"I will stab you—"

"You can't keep letting him stick to you. Be on my side for once. Otherwise he'll never leave you alone."

"He just likes me because I play video games with him and I buy him food. He's not a bad kid," you laughed, but made a mental note to try and be less indulgent to the young boy.

As good as your relationship with Aerion was, it was bound to come to an end. You had been broken up for a week when the knock at your door came.

A week of lying in bed with a gaping hole in your chest.

A week of scrolling aimlessly through the pictures of the two of you on your phone.

Mostly a week of mourning how good it had been, and how good it would've been if only the two of you didn't argue so often.

The idea of interacting with a Targaryen for the time was so far out of mind that you didn’t expect the sight that befell you upon opening the door. Though, maybe you should have.

“Egg? What are you —”

“You can’t break up.” He hurried out, as though if he didn’t say everything at once, he’d never be able to. “Please, you have to come back. The house is so boring without you, and Dad says I’m not to contact you because Aerion is my brother and I have to stick by him. But I don’t want to stick by him!”

“Honey, it’s one in the morning, how did you get here?”

“I took a cab.” He panted, swallowing his saliva.

Later on, he gulped down his second glass of water as he sat on your couch. Your eyes hadn’t strayed from him at all, except for the brief moment you had used to text his brother. Of course, you knew he enjoyed your company and he thought of you not as his brother’s girlfriend but as his sister. But to come knocking at your door in the middle of the night to beg you to stay with his brother…

Yeah, you hadn’t fathomed he’d ever consider doing that. And yet.

“I didn’t think you cared so much about Aerion and his feelings.” You let out, part of you wondering if you should ask Egg how Aerion has been this past week, though you decided against it. You weren’t about to pull a nine year old boy into your issues, no matter how hard he tried,

But Egg just frowned, confusion filling his features, “Aerion? What are you talking about?”

No, you were the one frowning. Thinking back to his rapid little speech when you opened the door to find him, you questioned him again. “What were you talking about?”

Egg raised both hands as he shrugged, the way he always used his entire body to react. “I don’t care about Aerion. I just don’t want you to leave the family. But don’t worry about it. Even if you don’t want Aerion back, I’ve got a plan. What do you think about Daeron?”

Somehow, you were even more confused than you thought could be possible.

But independent as he was, Egg didn’t need a reply from you to keep the conversation going. “Father said I have to take my brother’s side now that you’ve dropped him. But if you got with Daeron, then I wouldn’t have to choose Aerion, because you’d still be in the family. Get it?”

Again, no reply from you apart from the gaping expression you gave at his words.

“If the drinking bothers you that much, I’m sure I can set you up with Valarr.”

And thank God for the sudden, incessant knocking at the door. Aerion was here, evidently, and he seemed pretty pissed.

“You fucking rat!” Aerion roared when his eyes found his brother sitting on the couch. “How did you even get out of the house? How did you get here?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

Wrong thing to say, because Aerion’s eyes widened before he started making a beeline for the couch.

As the boy screeched and jumped behind the couch, you grabbed Aerion’s arm to pull him back, wincing at the situation. God, you should be sleeping right now. “No violence inside, please.”

“My dad’s livid!” Aerion added loudly, anger seeping through his voice. “His room was empty, and the window was wide open. He thought someone had taken him. Unfortunately not!”

Egg peeked his eyes from behind your couch, glaring at his brother. “Hey, I’m doing you a favor! I was trying to get her back for you!”

“What?” He turned to you, but you only shrugged. Though you did notice how Egg’s explanation wasn’t entirely truthful, you didn’t point it out to Aerion. He was mad enough at him already without the knowledge he was trying to set you up with other people.

Growling, Aerion reached out and grabbed Egg’s collar, dragging him towards the door while mumbling an apology to you under his breath. The only thing you could hear as you closed the door was the two boys arguing.

But truth be told, if the young boy hadn’t found his way to your place and forgotten his jacket, you likely wouldn’t have called Aerion again, which led to the two of you sitting down and talking about your relationship, and if you got back together some time later… well, Aerion didn’t like the reminder it was all thanks to Egg.

this idea was stuck in my head for so long I'm just glad I got this out lmao. I also had no idea how to end it so the ending is lowkey rushed sorry

please let me know if you enjoyed this, I rarely post the fics I write so I'd love some feedback!!! and also let me know if you can see that my knowledge of how romantic relationships work is limited lmao

thank you for reading!!!!

[spicyhotcheeto]

˚⟡˖ ࣪By The Sea You Will Find Me˚⟡˖ || jacaerys.velaryon

summary: when word gets out about the brown haired boy that washed up your shores to the iron throne- three dragon riders fly to your seaside village to introduce themselves to your family; one of them in particular catches your eye- lucky for you, you had caught his as well.

word count: 3.4oo+

pairings: jacaerys velaryon x fisherman/smallfolk!reader

a/n: have i finished hotd? no! will i make more chapters? most likely :) are the characters a lil ooc? idk, like i said i didnt finish it

warnings: slight angst | fluff | lucerys lives au! | amnesiac luke au | disabled luke au | flirt jacaerys | incest adjacent (?) | reader is smallfolk and not related to them by blood | but lucerys and reader call each other brother and sister | platonic!lucerys x reader

credit to: @enchanthings for the dividers!

The air in your small sea side cottage was tense.

There was no laughter for today's dinner. No younger siblings running and cheering as you sang songs of salt and sea. There was no chatter about the day either: whether the fish were kind enough to provide you a suitable haul for the market, or if the shells that washed up on the shore would fetch for a good enough price once polished- just lips pressed into thin lines, heads down to avoid offending their betters.

The flames from the fire pit grew low too, as if it knew to snuff out any warmth left behind it's four wall.

It was strange- this whole situation was strange- you were all privy to that fact.

"We only have the fried fish My Queen..."

It took you quite awhile to finally find the courage to speak. You bet you looked like a fool, throat dry and hands far too shaky as you take another sip of your drink; as if enough ale could calm down your nerves and forget this day ever happened, but for your brother Lucerys you endured. Even when everything in you urged you to shrink back and hide away with your sisters upstairs.

"I am sure it is... different from what you are use too. I apologize for sullying your tastebuds."

You could hear screeching over the sounds of crashing waves from outside your window, along with the cries of the goat and sheep your neighbors had kindly offered in the stead of your own, just while your shoulders tense up; all to cement your reality further.

Three bloods of the dragon were sitting in front of you with eyes of amethysts and hair like white gold, while their fire breathing beasts were bathing beneath moonlight at the front of your lawn.

They had arrived unannounced- scaring half the island to death while waking up the other- when they landed their mounts to shore.

Only one of them didn't have the striking Valyrian features their kin were known for, a man right about your age, seated to the left of the Queen- his mother- but he remained princely all the same.

You could see the resemblance between him and the boy you had taken in as one of your own. Though he was much more handsome, with a stronger jaw and poutier lips, leaving your face hot whenever your eyes would meet.

Right now, he was looking right at you- dissecting you fully. And you tried to avoid his gaze as effectively as you could.

The Gods, whether the old ones or the new, could strike you down right now and you would thank them for it. Just so this awkwardness would end.

"It is quite alright." Queen Rhaenyra waved a hand in the air as if to dismiss your words. "We are grateful that you have invited us in."

Despite the kindness of her tone, no food touched her lips. The consort and the Prince did not touch their plates either.

It didn't escape your notice but you weren't about to point it out.

You blamed it on the nerves. You preferred your head to be attached to your neck after all.

Your brother Lucerys had a different thought all together.

"You should eat what my sister made for you... She worked hard to prepare it."

Underneath the table you wanted to kick his shin. He had a tongue on him. Always had beneath his sweetness, him using it was rare, yes, but he had it in him to do so. But when he wrapped his fingers around yours in comfort, to remind you that he was there, you couldn't bring yourself to follow through.

Sweet boy. Always looking out for you despite you being older, even in the face of dragons. Even in the face of his blood.

"Do not disrespect our mother by speaking to her with that tone." Jacaerys did not raise his voice, but the firmness in it was clear.

"Do not disrespect my sister by refusing our food."

The crown prince's brows furrowed and he sneered.

"She is not even your blood." he spat the words like fire. Hoping the truth would burn into his younger brother's skull and make him remember. "We are your blood."

Rhaenyra's hand struck the table and the bickering between the two princes stopped.

Since she arrived she had never laid her eyes on her second son's face- fearing she'd wake up and realize it was a dream like most nights after his supposed death- but she wasn't asleep anymore.

This time, she looked at him. This time, he didn't melt away.

Only one tear had escaped her then.

"I apologize, sweet boy." Lucerys bristles at her words, the familiarity in her tone. It was odd hearing the endearment from her lips instead of his sisters. "It is only right we eat what is given. We did not mean to offend."

"I am not offended-" Rhaenyra doesn't wait for you to finish before taking a bite.

"This is ridiculous." Daemon grumbled, picking at it like he had never seen a fish before. Though you would imagine he had never been served a fish this small.

But Jacaerys, ever his mother's son, quickly followed her lead. The king consort was the last to do so.

You had handed them the three largest fish you and Luke had caught a day prior. Doused in every fresh herb you could find from your cupboards.

At least now, you and the rest of your kin would live until dawn.

"It taste like lemons." Jacaery's compliment was hollow, but you took it anyways.

"Thank you M'lord. It 'twas my mother's cooking." a light laugh escaped your lips.

Maybe you could imagine this as a simple dinner with extended family. Maybe then you wouldn't want the earth to open up and swallow you whole.

"You must teach us how then, so when we take my brother back, he will have something to remember you by."

He went straight for it, not giving anyone a moment of respite.

Rhaenyra wince. She was hoping for a more subtle approach. "Jacaerys-"

"No." Lucerys digs his palm into the table to lift himself up, rattling the plates and cups. His mother and brother raised from their seats trying to catch him, eyes drawn with worry- but Lucerys pulls away, choosing you for stability instead.

You sighed at his coldness. Handing him the large staff he used in place of his missing leg.

"You can't take me away from the only family I have ever known as if I am a mere pet that you can pick up as you please!"

"Of course not, that was not what your brother meant at all."

You never thought royalty could be so desperate. You never thought the Queen of the realm would break under the eye of the boy who- not a week before- had slipped into some cow dung, and when he caught you laughing, threw it at your face.

The Queen rambled on and you pitied her for it.

"We would never intend for you to cut ties with them- we could give them land, titles even-" a scoff bellowed out in the corner. "You could even marry her if y-you so wish. I would approve of it, if it means you would stay happy. If you would return home."

The suggestion only seemed to anger him. "I call her sister, and your solution to my fears is to have us wed? This home is of the faith of the seven, do not bear your sins as if they are our own."

Daemon grits his teeth. His sheathed blade, dark sister, peeked through the slits of his cloak. "You are of fire and ash, boy. You might have fucking forgotten that but your blood does not."

Lucerys had not backed down in the slightest, unflinching despite the intimidation. He had never been so brave, at least never in his memories.

"I am of the sea and the salt. A fisherman, not a dragon."

"Mind your tongue," Jacaerys raises his hands in frustration, as if he couldn't believe the words out of his mouth. He to agreed at the ridiculousness of it all. "Or else I'll strap you to Vermax myself and fly into the night."

"I would like to see you try-"

"Enough." you pull Lucerys back and for once the stubborn boy had listen and you praise the Sevens that he did so.

You could feel the stare of his blood brother on your back, a steady presence on your skin, and you wonder to yourself if staring was his favorite past time.

"Clearly, there are a lot of pent up feelings as of now... Maybe we should rest and talk about it once morning comes."

"I say we go with my plan. He will accept his fate soon enough." Jace quietly mouths to his mother.

Rhaenyra squeezes his shoulders gently before shaking her head. "I agree, we should rest." her response was diplomatic and because she was Queen- and their mother, and their wife- they followed.

Daemon had grumbled. Jacaerys had pursed his lips. But they did so anyways.

You, like the proper host you were, had given your guests the biggest room. While the rest of your siblings were cooped up in the smaller one.

"Truly, we are grateful you have allowed us to stay." The Queen's hands were gentle on your free arm, thumb strumming against the roughspun before she retreated into the room for the night.

"D-do you plan on giving me to them?" Lucerys had asked in a shaky breath. Your sister's eyes were blood shot, their arms around him tight in fear that he would leave.

You turn to fully face them, gentle hands ushering them into the other room.

"Father said that blood does not make family." His voice grew louder once you were inside. "He said that he was my father and you my sisters despite it-"

Your hand had found his way to his cheek and it had silenced him mid sentence. "We will discuss this in the morning, do not make your sisters afraid."

At least for tonight, the reminder you still saw him as kin was enough to quiet his doubts and let himself rest.

It was not the most comfortable of sleeping arrangements.

Their snoring, the tight fit atop the bedding, the way their tiny feet and Lucery's stump would dig into your sides, had left you sweaty and restless. Forcing you to slip away from thin sheets and tiptoeing down creaky stairs just to get a fresh breath of air.

"Oh Sevens-" You quickly bit your lip and spun at your heels, trying to stay quiet as you shut the front door, heaving against it.

It was not fresh air that had greeted you, but a large body of scales.

The dinner had been such a mess you had almost forgotten that there were other, more dangerous, beings that neared you.

"Fuck..." You closed your eyes, hand against your chest to steady your breathing. You had never been so close to a dragon before.

"Is that where he gets it from?" A sudden voice asked followed by the sounds of heavy boots hitting wood.

You lifted your eyes to find Jacaerys. Sleep had missed him as well.

"My brother's sudden rudeness... did it come from you?"

You point at yourself, confused. "What are you talking about M'lord?"

He sighs, now at the bottom of the steps. "Forget it... I know better than to blame you."

Jacaerys was closer now, large hands running through his brown locks.

They curled like the waves. You noted the freckles on his skin. The way he was prettier up close.

"We're you about to go outside?" His voice no longer held roughness, with less bite than the one at dinner.

"No," You lied through your teeth. "Just wanted to see if the dragons were asleep which they- um- are. Goods, yes?"

With your hands at your back and your posture stiff, you tried to exude ease- as if dragons were not tales of legend but mere talking points in common conversation.

You wonder if he could hear the way your heart was beating rapidly against your chest. If he had, he was not subtle in his amusement.

"Asleep? Why? If you had caught them in their wake, would you have sung to them until they find their rest?"

"I could have..." You turned your head to look away. Damn him.

"Its alright if they have frightened you." A half-smile was on his lips, more than what you were use too from him. "It is only natural to be frightened."

"I am not afraid-" But when he had reached for the metal loop and your hand had sprung out to take his wrist, it was clear to him that you were.

The rustling from outside had startled you too.

"Hmm?" His smugness rolled out in waves. In this light he looked more boy than man.

"I thought you unafraid?"

You should strike him, wipe his face clean of that grin. He looked similar enough to Luke Lucerys that you think you could get away with it if you claim your sight had been hindered by the dark.

Instead- you remembered yourself. Dropping the offending hand to smoothened out your skirt in a nervous tick. You could feel his breath against the curve of your ear and you shivered, and his dimples deepened.

"If it is fresh air you seek, I should escort you outside." the distance between you grew as he took a step back, palm extending outwards to you. "Take it as an apology for my actions from earlier. The dragons will not harm you in my presence."

A sigh escapes you and you begrudgingly agree, his palm warm against your own.

For a moment, beneath the stars, you forget you are fisher folk and that the man beside you was a dragon prince. Imagining yourself as a girl simply breathing in the ocean breeze rather than what you actually are- a girl trying to find solace from her plights.

The shawl you had brought- which your mother had made long before you were even born and the one your father took inspiration from so Lucerys would have a matched with his girls the week after he had arrived- was tight around your shoulders as you watched the sea from a distance.

"Thank you..." Jacaerys whispers, finally speaking. "For taking care of him..."

Like he had promised the dragons paid no attention to you, even when a few of them had stirred themselves awake, keeping themselves busy by flicking their tails and leaving claw marks into the dirt.

"It was nothing really." you shifted your feet awkwardly at his thanks.

A lull. Then he speaks again.

"You could have turned him away... I'm sure most people would have, especially in his current condition."

"Well, he was sleeping on my father's boat when we had found him so he wasn't easy to ignore. Besides, my father loved to take in strays and I am certain the boy would have found a way to hobble after us if we had left without him."

You smiled at the memory, at the young boy with a damp mop of curls, shivering and sniveling inside your lowly fishing both. He had no memory of who he was. How his leg had gone missing- the only truth he knew of was that his name was Luke and that he was alone.

Pirates, you suggested once. Dragons, your father suggested back.

Many small folk had been made victim to the dance and by then, word had gotten out that its reach had spread to your shores. Your father thought that Luke must have been one of them- whether his boat had got caught by a hungry beast, the wind carrying the scent of the fish nets up into the air and to its senses- or hit by a stray breath of flame.

Unlikely but not wholly impossible.

Back then you had laugh. Dragons were of the air, what dangers did they pose in the sea?

Now, you are certain that he was the one bellied over in laughter.

"What are you smiling for?" Jacaerys asked. You whipped your face at his voice.

"Nothing." You insist. "It's just... if my father were here, I am certain he would find this situation most amusing."

"He was a happy man, your father?"

You nod. "The happiest."

At the corner of your eye, you could see that Jacaerys looked pleased at that fact.

"I am glad... that in the five years he has been gone- he had found his way into a happy home. Trust us, when we say that we will reward you for your efforts."

"We did not take him in for a reward." His eyes were wide, caught off guard by your quickness. You raised your hands up defensively.

"Truthfully, I never thought he was a Lord. Much less a Prince." you continued on, crinkling your nose in a playful jest.

You had given that boy to many clouts in the ear- chores you doubt he was ever expected to do in his time in King's Landing- and had laughed with him and acted without propriety to his true born station.

"Of course not-" his words stumble for a bit before it regained its footing. "I did not mean to imply that you did so, nor did I mean to imply that you held ulterior motives in your heart."

He was trying to be polite. You couldn't help but laugh at that too.

Stretching your arms out, you could feel your body lax before unceremoniously making a bed out of the grass- tired from staying on your feet for far to long.

Supposed you could go back inside and lay in a proper bed with the rest of your siblings- but this day had been stressful and you believed you deserved a moment of calm.

"He got sea sick the first time we took him out fishing." Another laugh escaped your lips, scratchy in its timber and leaving a bitter sweet taste on your tongue. You could feel a tear dip down to your temple before disappearing into your hair. You caught the next one before it could drop.

So many thoughts had filled your head: about your family, about the Targaryens... the little paradise you had made by the shore- but there was nothing you could make sense of.

The Prince tilts his chin down to meet your eyes, gaze focused even as he takes up the empty space of grass beside you. You bet you looked like a fool.

"He hurled all over the nets and we had to cancel the trip short- said he couldn't handle the waves rocking him. To think... that boy may leave us to be the Lord of Driftmark."

Jace had never forgotten the way his brother was at sea. The irony was not lost on both on you.

He rest his head on the grass, hair weaving into its blades in soft motions. He turned his head so he could still look at you as he spoke. "He was the same when he was a boy."

"I can imagine the same green face in fancier robes." you sniffled.

"Oh I'm sure you can." he raised a hand to the sky waving it around as he told tales of youth, of stories between him and a Luke you hadn't meant yet, making a show of it.

"I have always been better at the sword than my brother." he commented after telling you a story of them sparring by the shore. He moved to a more comfortable position, grace measured as his muscles flexed beneath the velvet- catching your eye.

He smirks, satisfied, before continuing. "I hope we could continue to spar once he warms up to me."

"He will M'lord. He is a friendly boy."

It was colder now, the wind had picked up and the sounds of the waves crashing against the rocks had grown louder.

"Are you not cold, My Prince?" The shawl slips off your shoulders so you could offer it.

He rubbed his hands together for some warmth, cupping it around his lips so he could blow in some hot air. "What kind of a prince I would be if I took a young Lady's shawl?"

"A warm one." you retort, throwing half of it over his frame, while the other half remained on yours. A few seconds later the tremble in his lip stop. The wool was not much but it did its job blocking the wind well enough.

"Is it your habit to save Velaryons?" he says breathlessly.

"I hardly call sharing a shawl saving, My Prince."

"I could die from a simple cold." his tone was matter-of-fact. "You very well could be saving me."

A snort rumbled from your throat. Jacaerys didn't seem to be put off by the sound. "We should head back shortly. Morning will arrive sooner in our sleep."

He nestles deeper into the shawl but nods.

"Yes, we probably should."

a/n: yayyy i hope you like it! im thinking of making the next chapter about them exploring the little town luke had grown up in for the past five years rather than cutting it straight to kings landing. what do you guys think about that plan? anyways hearts and reposts will be greatly appreciated!

[breesfics]

guidelines

works:

⤷ I do not write nsfw, it personally makes me uncomfortable. All my works are sfw. With that said, my fics are written with the characters being 18+ in mind, even if nothing improper takes place, since I'd rather not write for minors.

⤷ Outside of the ASOIAF world, I do not write incest. In general, what I will not write includes but is not limited to: smut, pedophilia, incest, abuse, rape.

⤷ Unless stated otherwise, all of my fics are fem!reader

⤷ If you have a request to send, you are very welcome to do so, I'd love to get any idea. To add to this, I accept any kind of feedback (so long as it's not rude, mocking, or mean in any way. I'm very sensitive when it comes to my writing, seeing as posting them is new to me.)

⤷ I want to reiterate that I do not support AI in any way, and please do not feed my writing and posts into it.

Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you'll enjoy reading my fics as much as I enjoy writing them! Any kind of notes are very appreciated!

[abbocolypse]

rest in peace jacerys targaryen your mom is about to smoke the fucking continent over this