Can I Go Where You Go?

Alicia 🥖💕 I write (sometimes). https://peacedolantwins.tumblr.com/post/181732066135/masterlist

[bayjaruchel]

Strawberry Blond

－－－

Pairing: Peeta Mellark/AFAB Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Late one night, you get a call. (4.7k | originally posted on ao3 | Masterlist )

－－－

You know that your relationship can never be normal. 

Even now, when you technically should have peace of mind— and you're out of the arena, out of the Games— there's still the ugly truth that lies beneath it all. The Victor's Village is beautiful in comparison to the rest of District Twelve, but because of the reason why you earned a residence here, you're not sure if you'll ever truly enjoy it. Brick houses with plenty of room, and yet yours is still far too empty, even if you have your family to keep you company. 

Peeta lives alone in his. 

There's always smoke coming from the chimney, and he keeps most, if not all of the lights on. The only room that occasionally has its lights off is his, which is on the second floor. You've woken up in the middle of the night many times and glimpsed the shining evidence that he's still awake. It's not like you get perfect sleep yourself— but you worry, sometimes. 

You do visit him, sometimes. But you've never knocked on his door when it's nighttime. You're not entirely sure why that is; maybe it's because you're afraid of what the cool silence will bring. Maybe it's too intimate. Neither of you are strangers to intimacy, and you've definitely maintained a little of that, but … There's still a certain distance. Away from the cameras, you still struggle to discern what's real and what's not. 

The way he looks at you is certainly real. 

You don't know if you'll ever feel exactly the same way towards him. 

Sure, you do like him. A lot. He makes it easy. He's the type of guy that you could bring home to your parents. He's the type of guy that one would want to come home to every day. Of course, he's a little more reserved, and his eyes are duller, but— he's still Peeta. He's still the baker's boy. Deep down, he'll never lose what made you— and all of the Capitol— fall in love with him. 

Is it really love, though? Or is it just admiration? 

It's something that you think about a lot. You've never said those three words to him when not in front of an audience. And he knows that on those specific occasions, it wasn't real. It was just an act. Maybe when he kissed you, he wasn't acting. Maybe when he looked at you and said those lovely things to you, he wasn't acting. 

You can dream. You can hope. 

However, most of your actual dreams nowadays are just nightmares.  

No golden boy is holding you, shielding you from the awful weather. There's no bright, happy future in which everything turned out right. And there's none of those strange, albeit interesting dreams where your house is upside down and your teacher at school is telling you that somehow, you've suddenly graduated and you're being sent off to the Capitol to become one of them. 

Instead, there's just fire. 

Tonight, you dream of fire. 

Burning bodies that fall from the highest trees. You can vaguely make out who they are— there's a sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach, a primal guilt. Everything around you is blazing, and you know you should try and get out, but your feet are frozen, rooted to the spot. You can't move, even as the flames begin to lick around your ankles. Even if you did run, you wouldn't be able to escape. This has been a long time coming, hasn't it? 

Despite the almost blinding brightness emanating from the fire, everything else is foggy and dark. The only thing you can focus on is the corpses, the trees, and everything coming down around you. Someone shouts your name, but it's muffled like you're underwater. You fail to register it fast enough. 

A scream, crystal-clear. 

You whip around, and there it is. The evidence of your failure. You're helpless to do anything— you can only watch— more screaming, more yelling, more pleads for help— 

There is so, so much blood— 

You're awake, and the blistering heat is gone. 

Gasping, you sit up, struggling for breath. It keeps catching in your throat. Your heart's pounding at a pace that makes your head spin. Dizzy, disorienting. But it used to be worse than this. 

At least you don't wake up sobbing anymore. 

This is still awful, though. Trembling, you wrap your arms around yourself, attempting to regain control. In, out. In, out. Your lungs shudder with the effort, but you keep going. Despite the comfortable warmth of the house, there's still goosebumps prickling up and down your bare skin. Your arms. Your neck. The sheets are tangled around your waist and legs; you almost feel trapped. 

There's no point in closing the curtains, since virtually nobody is in the streets, and the other inhabitants of the Village couldn't possibly look through your windows. When you glance out of the one nearest to your bed, it's almost pitch-black outside. There are no street lamps, after all. You try to focus on the cold, empty houses to distract yourself. 

Finally, your breath slows. Your pulse calms. 

You're still shaking, faintly, but your knees don't give out when you detangle yourself from your blankets and slip out of bed. You consider that a minor victory. 

Taking care not to make too much noise, you head downstairs. The polished stone is cold underneath your feet, but it's grounding, in a way. It settles you back down to earth. For a short while, you frequently lost your way due to the sheer size of the house, but now you know the quickest route to the kitchen by heart. Even when half-asleep, you know exactly where to go. 

The light flicks on with a quiet buzz when you gently press the switch. 

Quietly, you wonder if the ultimate prize for winning the Games was running water. It's cold, as it splashes over your fingers and into the basin. There are plenty of pristine, artisan glasses and whatnot in the overhead cabinets— probably made in District One— but you always reach for the mugs you had before. The ones with a couple of cracks and dents littering their bodies— evidence of their long lifespans. 

You lean against the counter as you take a long gulp of water. It's pleasant, the feeling pooling low in your chest. 

The silence used to be unnerving, but now, you welcome it with open arms. 

You take another, smaller sip from your mug. Maybe you'll be able to sleep for another few hours. Until the sun rises, at least. Then, you can take a walk. You can wander around all you like here, provided that you don't stray too far. Regardless, you're sure nobody will be too concerned about that. Haymitch is the sole man responsible for the lax rules concerning the victors. 

You're still not sure if you like him or not. 

Slowly, you finish your drink. But, just as you're ready to set it into the sink and head back upstairs—

—the phone's ringing. 

You can hear it pretty clearly, even if it's muffled. 

Who could be calling at this hour? Furrowing your brow, you put down the mug and start heading down the hallway, towards the study. You're well aware that Haymitch tore his phone out of the wall ages ago, so it couldn't be him. Nobody from your District calls you, either. And if you get any calls from outside the District, they're usually during the daytime. Not at two-ish in the morning. The Capitol may be invasive, but they're not that invasive. They need their beauty rest, you figure.  

So, taking all of that into consideration, that only leaves— 

"Peeta?" You mutter, upon picking up the phone. 

There's a beat of silence. 

"Hello," he replies. 

It's a bit hard to tell over the line, but he sounds nearly as groggy as you. Delicately, you shut the door of the study behind you with a quiet click. Just in case. 

"Is something wrong?" You allow yourself to be a little louder, now that there's a barrier between you and the rest of the house. "Couldn't sleep?" 

"Something like that." There's a slight rustling. "I mean— nothing new, right?" Even though you know he meant it as a joke, the grim truth makes it fall flat. 

Still, you breathe out a quiet laugh. "Nothing's changed." Affixing your gaze on one of the chairs sitting around the mahogany table, you fiddle with the telephone cord. "Did you, uh— did you need something, though?" 

Peeta hesitates again. 

"I just—" He cuts himself off. "I'm sorry for calling you so late." He's entirely earnest in a way that makes you ache. "Did I wake you up?" 

He's also dodging the question, even if he is genuinely worried about your sleep schedule. 

"No, you didn't," you assert, "don't worry about that. It's fine." 

"Okay," he responds, relief palpable despite the crackly quality. 

The telephone cord is somewhat cold where it rests on your knuckles. You continue to twist it around your idle hand. 

"You still haven't answered my question, by the way."  

Peeta audibly exhales. 

"Oh." More rustling. "Yeah. I, um—" he clears his throat, "—yeah, I do need something, actually." 

That could mean a lot of things. Does he just need to talk? You know he does, sometimes. Or maybe he just needs some more flour, and is too embarrassed to admit it. He does seem like the type of guy to stress-bake in the wee hours of the morning. However, you seriously doubt that he wants anything related to that. 

"What is it?" You ask, finally. 

His next words are rushed, as if he's afraid that if he says them slowly, he'll never get them out. 

"Could you come over? I just—" it's only a momentary gap, "—don't wanna be alone right now." 

Ah. 

The thing is, you understand. You know what it's like. And there's only one possible response that you can give right now. Vividly, you can see him— the cave—  his face, shining with a cold sweat, his eyes scrunched tightly in pain— 

"Okay." You're already mentally mapping out where to go. "I'll be there in a few." 

-- 

When he opens the door, Peeta looks exhausted. 

But when he smiles at you, there's still that light in his eyes. That look he gets whenever you're around. It used to make you feel sick to your stomach, but now— now, you're not quite sure how to feel. You've been told that in comparison to him, you're rather good at keeping your feelings hidden underneath the surface. It's been necessary, after all. 

"You're here," he says after a beat, as if he expected anything else. 

"I'm here," you echo. 

Wordlessly, he steps aside to let you pass by. Somehow, although the layout of his house is exactly the same as yours, his still feels different. Warmer. A little cozier. The remnants of something sweet are still floating through the air, and you glance back at him. Maybe you were right about the possibility of him making cookies— or apple turnovers. Or those little cakes. 

"Been baking?" You ask. 

"Earlier," he clarifies, shutting the door behind you. 

"Smells nice." 

Peeta lingers by your side. "Want some?" 

"If that's okay." 

"It's always been okay." He raises his eyebrows. "How many times have I told you that you don't even need to ask?" 

You shoot him a look. "Doesn't hurt to ask." 

Flawlessly, he copies your expression. "How do you know that?" 

"It's called being polite, Peeta." 

"Polite," he repeats. "Polite…" 

You let out a short sigh. 

"Just show me where they are." 

He gives you a shit-eating grin. "And there it is." 

You don't even bother trying to respond; he's already padding past you, anyway. It's a short trip to the kitchen. His is more cluttered than yours— recently-used, more lived-in. There are more dishes in the sink, more stuff on the counter. But your eyes are drawn to the two wire baking racks on the stovetop. On top of them sit around two dozen pastries. They're prettily decorated with pink, blue, and white icing, and you take some time to admire them as you join him in front of the stove. 

"You've outdone yourself," you can't help but murmur. "Wow." 

At your compliment, Peeta instantly turns bashful. 

"Oh, thanks." Of course, he can't let those words sit. "It's— it's not my best work, but I—" 

His volume drops, and he pauses. 

"Well— my hands were shaking, so…"

Abruptly, you turn your attention away from the pastries. 

He notices, interrupting you before you can even open your mouth to speak. 

"I know what you're gonna ask," he says, softly. "And, yeah, I do want to talk about it. Just—" Peeta sucks in a breath. "Just not now, okay? Give it a little while." The corner of his mouth quirks up, and he gestures towards the racks. 

"Eat." 

You consider pressing the question. You consider urging him— did it happen again? Was it worse this time? It had to have been worse, considering that he wanted you over in the first place. Just thinking about it makes your stomach perform an uneasy flip. You can read Peeta. And right now, you can read the bags under his eyes. The tiredness he's trying to fight away. 

However, you don't want to push him. You don't want to break him down. Not again. 

So, you take a pastry. 

It's really, very good. 

Peeta takes one for himself, too, and you eat in silence. You know that despite your frequent approval of his various baked goods, he's still carefully watching your reaction; you make sure to look pleased, and it isn't hard at all. He seems satisfied. You're also satisfied. Once you've finished your pastry, you lick the remnants of the icing off your fingers. 

You pretend not to notice the way he stares— briefly, before forcing his gaze away. 

You pretend to ignore the way your heart skips. 

Mercifully, he breaks the awkward tension. 

 "Do you— would you want to take some home?" He asks, after swallowing. "We both know that I'm not gonna eat 'em all." 

"Oh, yeah, I'll take some," you answer. Thinking for a second, you add, "Were you going to risk bringing some to Haymitch, or—" 

He snorts. "Not this time." 

"More for me, then." 

"And your family, you mean?" 

You smile. There's no way that you're going to give up those pastries without a fight. 

"Sure. And my family."

Peeta doesn't seem entirely convinced, but he returns your smile all the same. 

-- 

He always keeps his bedroom windows open at night. 

You're not exactly sure why, but you suppose it's because he runs warm. Always. 

The duvet's soft on your bare skin, and his hands are gentle. With the way your head is positioned, if you move your ear just so, you can hear his heartbeat thumping through his chest. A steady rhythm. He's calm, and so are you. You're certain that you could fall asleep like this— if it weren't for the fact that you have other, more important priorities right now. 

When you look up at him, shifting an increment closer, he talks. 

"I thought things were getting better." His Adam's apple bobs as you watch. "I thought that— that things were gonna start improving. That I'd— " He trails off, for a second. 

"That I'd start going back to normal, I guess. But I should've known that it's… It's impossible." His gaze is focused on the ceiling. "It was hopeless to try and believe that I could just keep on going like nothing happened at all." 

You find your voice. 

"But you still tried?" 

The chuckle he lets out is completely humorless. 

"Yeah, I tried." 

He's always been optimistic— he's always trying to see the best in people. And seeing him like this makes you feel hopeless. You know what he's going through. It's essentially the same thing that you're going through. However, it's not like you can read minds. He knows the right words to say, but you don't. Even though you wish you could. Words— even though actions can speak louder than them— still mean a lot. You turn that word over in your head a couple of times. Actions. 

"What happened?" You ask, quietly. 

 A beat. 

"I let down my guard," he starts, volume barely a whisper. "I was confident in my stability. I thought that I wouldn't— break down, or anything. Because it had been a few weeks, and—" 

His eyes shut. Tightly. "God, I'm stupid." 

"You're not," you rush to interject, "don't say that." 

Peeta lets out another huff. "But it was stupid. To assume that I'd be okay, I mean. I should've— I should've expected it, at least." He quickly carries on. "Even after everything, I still let myself fall into a routine." 

I still let myself fall back into a routine, you know what he means. The bad dreams pale in comparison to the real monsters that loom over the both of you. Haymitch is a living example of what can happen; what will happen, if you don't hold on to tight control of the hypothetical reins. You ache. 

"Don't blame yourself for any of this," you murmur, "please. It's not your fault. Not in the slightest." You have to speak slowly, pace yourself. Keep yourself from everything you want to say. "Even if you tried to— I don't know, stay hyper-aware of everything— it would still come crashing down eventually." A breath. "It's inevitable, Peeta. It's always going to be here." 

"But I don't want it to be here," he chokes out, "I really, really don't!" 

You push yourself up from your previous position. His eyes are open now, wide and looking up at you. 

When you move backward and open your arms, he's on you in an instant. 

You rock back and forth, gently. You're not sure which one of you is holding onto the other tighter. Clinging would be a better word. His face is pressed firmly into your shoulder. You can feel him shaking. 

Despite everything, he won't let himself make any noise when he cries. 

You don't know how long you stay like this. It could be minutes. Hours, even. All you can feel and register is him. Peeta. He's trembling. The barely-there sensation, combined with the undeniable tightness of his arms. His hands. It's almost like he thinks that if he loosens his hold, even by just the slightest fraction, you'll suddenly disappear. 

That you'll cease to exist. 

That you'll become not real.  

When you finally draw back— slowly, tentatively, and only because he does it first— 

He sniffs, eyes red. They're not brimming with unshed tears, but they're still wet. You can't help but thumb away what little remains on his lower lids, even though you know that you probably look about the same. 

Peeta returns the gesture. 

Unlike you, though, he lingers, hand dropping to cup your cheek. 

There's a moment. 

You've done this before, of course. You've held each other. Comforted each other, brought each other back down. But since the end of the Games— since you've gotten away from the clamoring audiences desperate for a romance despite the sick circumstances— you haven't done anything more than that. 

You haven't kissed him since the end of the Games. 

But right now, you realize that you want to. More than anything. Anyone could see that Peeta wants it, too. Maybe even more than you do. 

So, when he leans in— just barely— closing the distance— 

It's practiced, at first. Familiar. Almost nostalgic. 

But then he melts, and it's suddenly something completely different.  

Peeta lets you softly maneuver him down onto the mattress, up against the pillows that are still too soft for your liking. He kisses you in the way those terrible poets describe— it's all excessively large bouquets, a clear starry night, longing looks across a crowded room, and—  

It's real. 

He gives. You take, and exchange it for everything you have in return. His hand stays on your cheek, the other behind your head, pulling you down. He kisses you like he needs it to breathe. You lose yourself in the feeling. Whenever you part, it's only out of necessity, and you're soon leaning back in. You're making up for lost time— you're making up for every action you didn't mean, every word that was too sugary-sweet. 

Soon, your kisses grow deeper. And neither of you wants to stop. 

It's only when his hands are trailing down your body, down to the hem of your shirt, that you bother addressing it. Even if you want this— so, so desperately— you don't want to force anything in a situation that doesn't require it. Just kissing is nice. It's very nice. Nice enough that it takes a little while for you to regain control of your mouth. 

"Is this—" 

—and he's already speaking. Hushed, like you. 

"Please." 

It's almost embarrassing, what that single word does to you. But you barrel on. 

"It's okay?" You ask, "Just say if it's not, and I'll stop—" 

"—I just," Peeta visibly struggles with what to say for a moment, before settling on: 

"Need you," he says. "Please." 

It's more than enough, and you're in no place to deny him for much longer. You recapture his lips, welcoming his touch. His hands on your back, then your waist, then your hips again. His grip is firm, but not overly so. He would never hurt you, after all. Especially not here. Especially after what he's witnessed. 

His hands are warm and calloused on your bare skin. Strong, with all the work he's done since he was old enough to knead dough. You have to sit up in order to take off your nightshirt, and he takes the opportunity to do the same with his. You've already seen him shirtless, and at close proximity, too— but it wasn't like this. You couldn't trail over every little detail with your lips, back then. 

Peeta shivers, letting out a short giggle when you press a kiss to his stomach. He's sturdy, that's for sure. Impressive biceps, a toned chest. He's beautiful, and you tell him so. You think he blushes, but it's difficult to say for certain from your position. You're too focused on finding all the little freckles you can. 

He likes it when you kiss his neck, breath audibly hitching when you do so. 

But even though he lets you entertain yourself for a decent while, he makes sure to return the favor. He's never liked being in the spotlight for long, after all. And he wants. 

He finds all of your scars, from the arena. From before the arena, too. He maps them out, painstakingly, mimicking the way you'd kissed him all over earlier. Sensitive, he notes, when you make a small noise when his thumbs find your nipples. Soft, he observes, as his fingers slip underneath your waistband, moving lower. 

Soon, you're completely exposed, and he is too. 

Peeta pays more attention to certain parts of you— your thighs, your chest— but he doesn't skip over anything in particular. He wants to know everything; he wants to learn everything. And he's eager to learn. By the time he reaches the spot between your legs, you're already wanting for him. You've grown needy from his kisses, his caresses. You can feel him against your thigh— he's just as needy as you. 

His fingers are clumsy, at first. But they're strong, and you guide him. One, then two. Then another. His breath is loud, and he hums, biting his lower lip at your quiet moan after you tell him how to crook his fingers. You jolt when he finds your clit, paying careful attention to it while he works you open. 

At your whispered insistence, he grips himself by the base— already having put on protection— you don't care enough to ask exactly how he obtained it— and he pushes in. The groan he lets out sounds like it's been punched from his gut. 

He sets a slow, measured pace. Almost awkward at first, but he's a fast learner. He learns what angle makes you spread your legs wider for him. You wouldn't even use fucking to describe what you're doing— somehow, that word's too rough. He kisses you, nose bumping against yours. Most of your noises are muffled against his lips, but he takes them all the same. He absorbs them, and drinks them in. Drinks you in. 

"Peeta," you sigh, and he breathes your name in return, before ducking to kiss your shoulder. Your collarbone. Your neck. 

He comes first, twitching, pulsing deep within you. He stifles his whimper by tucking his face into the divot between your shoulder and your neck— but you can still feel it. You help him ride it out, until his thrusts falter, and his hips still. 

It's a few moments of limbo, in which he catches his breath. He meets your eyes. His are hazy, half-lidded. He kisses you. 

Then, he pulls out— disposes of the garbage, of course— and wastes no time in making his way down your body, to where you need him most. 

You're certain that he's never eaten anybody out before, but he's a natural. He's enthusiastic— much more so than when he was inside you. This is just for your pleasure, now. When you thread a hand through his tousled hair, he moans into you, increasing his efforts tenfold. He doesn't care for the mess— or the noise, as he laps at you. He doesn't even care for his own need to breathe. Peeta just wants to give. 

His brow is furrowed in concentration as he rapidly pulls you closer to orgasm. You can do little but take. And when you finally topple over your peak— 

"—that's so good, ah— Peeta, I'm gonna— ohh—" 

You cry out, heat rolling low in your abdomen— gathering, passing through your entire body. 

You float on blissful waves, and he licks at you through it all. For a single, brief moment, your mind is perfectly calm. 

When you relax, the warmth steadying to a hum, he notices and stops working at you. He wriggles a little, and leans forward to rest his chin on your stomach while you catch your breath. You can feel his, too, and it's hot on your skin. Peeta seems reluctant to take his eyes off you just yet. 

It's quiet, you register. You're reluctant to ruin it, but he looks pretty messy. 

"I should get you a towel or something," you say. 

He cracks a smile, his eyes softening. "Should you?" 

"Yeah." You're powerless not to return it. "But, you know, for me to get the towel, you have to get off me." 

"So demanding." 

You let out a short, offended sound. "Hey, that's just—" 

"I'm getting up." And he does. 

It doesn't take long to clean up, and the obnoxious white fluorescent lights of the bathroom don't blind you for long. Again, Peeta looks on while you wipe off his face— this close, you notice how brilliantly blue his eyes are. You notice the precise angles of his jaw. His cheek. He's probably doing the same to you— tracing the contours of your face. 

To your relief, you're back in his bed a few minutes later. He completely shuts off the lights, flicking off his bedside lamp, and then crawls under the duvet with you. You're not sure if it's creepy or weird to enjoy it, but everything here smells like him. A sort of earthy, warm scent. Even though you're both well aware of the multiple floral shampoos that the Capitol has to offer— he still retains that one thing. 

You're comfortable. You're safe. 

Peeta wraps his arms around you from behind. 

You're not sure if you should say something or not, but he does it first. 

"You'll stay?" Whispered, into the stillness. 

"Of course." Without hesitation. 

His grip tightens, almost imperceptibly. 

"Thank you," he breathes.  

The words are stuck in your throat. 

You can't bring yourself to say them, even though you know you'd mean them. Every single syllable. 

But you have time. You can tell him tomorrow, even. Or the day after that. Tonight, you didn't say it aloud, but you still told him all the same. 

You understand exactly how you feel, just before you drift off. 

You love him. 

[anatay004]

ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ | ᴊᴀᴄᴀᴇʀʏꜱ ᴠᴇʟᴀʀʏᴏɴ (ᴘᴀʀᴛ 5)

Jacaerys hated you ever since you were kids, but after years of enigmatic feelings and constant fighting, he finally realizes he’s in love with you on your wedding day.

Warnings: Sexual references, profanity & Targaryen incest.

(AN): I apologize for the late update, but I finally finished chapter 5. Once again, I appreciate the kind comments, they’re truly motivating and wonderful to read. With that being said, this chapter does contain a little more maturity, but I limited my writing because I was unsure of how most people would take smut scenes and such. So, I would like to know your thoughts on that, so I could post the other version or consider it for the next story or update!

ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ᴡᴇ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ꜱᴀɪᴅ ɪᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ

ᴡᴇ ᴋɴᴇᴡ

"WHERE IS SHE?"

Jacaerys whispered the decibels in his voice notched down just enough for his mother to hear.  She sucked in a breath, trying to keep the worry in her features disguised as she placed a reassuring hand on her son's shoulder.

"Let us give her a moment, Jace, I'm sure she's a little overwhelmed, that's all." His mother's words were meant to comfort him, but the fugitive tone in her voice made him tense.

She's not coming, he thought.

And it was almost funny because, a few hours earlier, he was certain things had elucidated between you and him. The vestiges of last night rested in the back of his head – his confession, your caring touch, and the blissful kiss that he had longed for what felt like eternities.

But something pestered his certainty.

He wasn't aware of the reason, the fever that torched his head disoriented his memories, but he knew something unpleasant had happened. Why else would you take a step back again?

"Perhaps, my niece decided to leave at last."

"Daemon – " Rhaenyra began, a berating tone in her words before the sound of parting doors interrupted her and the room grew silent.

Perhaps, it was the blatant surprise of you stepping into the room or the dazing image you radiated but, whatever the case was, everyone looked at you walk towards him.

He faltered the moment his gaze landed on you.

Subconsciously, his eyes leveled down to scrutinize the snowy fabric that embraced your shape, and – he swallowed hard. Perhaps, it was the sheets of fabric that slipped down your shoulders, the bitter seahorse pendant that rested against your skin, or the evident goosebumps that peppered your skin.

But he was spellbound.

"Blood of two, joined as one," The Septon began, the words loud and in High Valyrian, but they slipped out his mind almost immediately.

You weren't looking back at him.

And his worries were confirmed when your hands slipped into his own, hesitantly and with a nonchalant warmth that made him tense. He tried to search for your gaze, but the wisps of eyelashes that shadowed your face were the only thing that stumbled into his line of vision.

"Ghostly flame and song of shadows. Two hearts tethered to one future promise in glass."

"Why are you avoiding me?" Jacaerys suddenly whispered in High Valyrian, his words were barely audible, but he knew you'd caught them, the sudden shift in your shoulders confirmed it.

You didn't respond.

He took a deliberate step forward.

"Are you angry?"

You clenched your jaw.

"The vow spoken through time, of darkness and time, let the two dragons come together as one." The Septon finished, indicating the ceremony was on the brink of ending, meaning – you were his wife, now and forever.

You turned to him then, but you didn't deign to make a move towards him. Your brown irises blazed with challenge, daring him to make a sudden move before everyone in the room.

And he thought about it for a moment.

He really did.

But when he looked back at you, he allowed the hesitation to dissipate as he subconsciously closed the gap between you and him. The palm of his hand slide down to curve against your cheek before you could even react, he steadied his other hand around your waist and pulled you towards him in a swift movement. His lips pressed against yours warmly, but there was something that differ vastly from the kiss you shared the previous night – this one was deeper and miserable, and prolonged.

Apologetic.

"May the gods drape the cloth of eternity over your union."

You fell back a step, breaking the kiss as you tried to discreetly catch your breath. He held you still, suddenly remembering everyone was watching, he cleared his throat and slide his hands down your arms to rub your skin.

You tensed.

The clapping was eventually stifled, and when he turned to his mother, she smiled and nodded indicating the small celebration was ready. "Please, let us celebrate in the Great Hall, we'll be more than happy to have your company as we honor this marriage!"

"This farce, you mean." You mumbled in High Valyrian, and made to follow the crowd, but he latched his hand onto your wrist and pulled you back almost immediately.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just a silly thought I had." You spat, narrowing your eyes at him as you tried to lose his grip.

"What?" He questioned, blinking in utter confusion as he slide an arm around your waist to stop you from moving so much.

Your eyebrows knitted together, leaning back to examine his disoriented gestures carefully. "You don't remember, do you?"

He shook his head. "Please, remind me."

"Very well," You began, straightening your posture. "If I remember correctly, you mentioned it was almost silly to have a whore for a wife."

His face went pale.

There it was, what he had feared to hear.

"I didn't mean it, love – "

" – it really doesn't matter, anymore."

"You're my wife now, shit like this matters." Jacaerys pushed forward.

You tilted your head.

He narrows his eyes, and a hint of mischief flashed across your eyes so briefly that he almost missed it, but it had been there and he swallowed hard. You leaned closer to his face and pressed your breath against his skin hotly as you whispered, "Prove it."

__________________________

The celebration was warm and crowded, the perfect scene that Jacaerys hoped to imagine when the thought of marrying you anchored in his head. However, it wasn't alluring in the slightest, not when everyone was stealing and asking you for a dance before his eyes.

He tried to dismiss it.

When you asked him to prove himself, he knew it meant placing trust in you. He knew it meant to behave and act nonchalant when someone else slide an arm behind your waist and pulled you close – he knew it, but you made it hard.

So fucking hard.

He watched you in the limelight, the snow-white fabric of your dress and the waves of hair that cascaded down your back were luminous – impossible to miss. You were the light in the room, everyone could see it, dancing and mumbling something that made you itch a smile as another twirled you around.

He clenched his jaw.

"Here," Daemon's voice broke into his thoughts, as he offered him a cup of wine and took a seat next to him. "It'll help enlighten the mood."

Jacaerys swept the cup a look, it was filled to the brim with tempting alcohol that he knew would most likely cloud his reason. But he was on the brink of climbing to his feet and dragging you out the dance floor, so, he decided to dissipate the malicious thought with a cup of wine.

And then another.

And another.

And another.

Until he was laughing at something Daemon had mumbled and both were acting the fool. You didn't notice it at first, you were distracted by the music, until their voices raised up a few decibels and you finally turned around.

"Bring us another bottle of wine!"

"Fuck, I think I lost my dagger."

And then their laughter ricocheted off the walls.

"Excuse me," You whispered, a hint of embarrassment glossed over your features as you began to trace back your steps to the dinner table, where your family was sitting at.

But your muscles faltered the moment Baela made her way towards Jacaerys. She placed an almost caring arm around his shoulders as she leaned close to his face to whisper something to his ear, which he quickly shook his head too.

It was harmless, you knew.

But the blood rushed into your skin and tinged with scarlet your cheeks.

"Jace, you need to slow down." Baela pushed forward, sliding an arm around his waist when he suddenly stood up and fell back a step.

"Where's my wife?" He loudly questioned, dropping an arm around Baela's shoulders in support as he searched for you.

"This is embarrassing, Daemon." Rhaenyra breathed out, darting her husband a look that he dismissed as soon as it was thrown.

"I was lightening the mood." Daemon defended and Jacaerys' laugh quickly followed.

"What the hell happened?" You questioned, rushing to Jacaerys with evident confusion.

"My father got him drunk," Baela answered, helping him ease down onto the chair again.

"My love," Jacaerys happily called, pushing back on his chair when you stumbled into his line of vision. You quickly wrapped an arm around his waist when he abruptly stood up and Baela helped. "You look so beautiful tonight."

You blinked. "How much did he drink?"

"We lost count, I'm afraid." Rhaenyra answered as she rubbed her temples in distress.

Your eyebrows jumped.

"My love, I never meant to hurt you – "

" – We can talk about this later, Jace." You swiftly interjected, not wanting everyone in the room to hear about your relationship troubles.

"I'll call the guards to help him back to your chamber," Rhaenyra informed when she noticed your arms were growing weaker and Baela was falling back a step tiredly. "I think the celebration comes to an end now."

__________________________

"We will have many children, all with your white hair and beautiful brown eyes, I hope."

You tried to stifle the smile that itched your lips, but it was truly impossible. After the guards had maneuvered him inside the room and eased him down onto the bed, he began to mumble drunk incoherences again.

And, after debating with yourself for a minute, you eventually decided to go along with it and took a seat next to him on the bed. Even if you were still mad at him, you supposed he kept his promise and did not accuse you of anything, despite you dancing with everyone to riled him up.

He tried.

"What if they have your brown hair?"

Jace sighed in concern. "I wouldn't want that."

Your eyebrows knitted together. "Why is that?"

Jace shrugged, taking a strand of your hair in his fingers. "They'll be bastards in the eyes of the kingdom, just as my brother and I are."

Your gestures dropped. "That's not true."

He scuffed, pushing back some of the hair that draped over your shoulders to expose your neck. "I'm not stupid, love, I know what I am."

You couldn't coherent an answer, so, you grew quiet as your features radiated faint sadness. You'd never thought about this, and never would have the idea of your children's paternity being questioned stumbled into your head.

But there he was, growing anxious as the shadow of his past adorned his dear future.

"You're a good man and our children will be lucky to have you as their father." The words slipped pass your lips before you could think twice and, for a moment, his lips curved in utter amusement as he looked down at his lap.

But he didn't answer, instead, he took your hand in his. For a second, the silence that ensued the room was comforting and you relished his presence, but then he asked something funny.

"Do you love me?"

The words were low and quiet, as if he was almost afraid of being too bold and pushing down your bottoms. He looked at you searchingly, a hint of insobriety seeped into his irises as he waited for an answer....hopeful.

"Because I do," He continued. "And I don't think you're a whore. Unlike, I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. You're kind and brave and strong. And I hate that I can't be the only one to notice it, sometimes that anger gets the best of me, but believe me, never in a million fucking years will I ever allow that title to fall under you again. I swear it."

You remained quiet.

I do love you, you thought.

But your head reeled when you tried to whisper it into the open air. "I'm not good with words."

"Then don't say anything." He pled.

You wanted to avoid the situation, you wanted to climb back to your feet and make your way out, but something anchored you. And, as he waited for an answer, you did the unexpected and – kissed him.

He was taken aback when he met your lips. It was fleeting and almost feather-like, but the moment you pulled away for an instant, he raked his fingers through your hair and tilted your head so he could deepen the kiss. Then it was a different kind of heat altogether as your tongue swept past his lips and a low growl clogged his throat.

"You're drunk," You suddenly breathed out, as his fingers traced down your body and he began to slide the fabric of your dress up your thigh.

A mirth of laugh echoed in his throat. "I sobered up the moment the guards tossed me on the bed."

You leaned back to examine him. He was suddenly looking back at you with a clearheaded facade that made you shook your head in amusement. "You fucking liar."

He kissed you again. "You love me too."

You found yourself responding to him and this time you didn't fight it – you didn't fight him. You returned his kisses with equal heat and his lips weren't foreign at all, but their harsh and desperate movement made you flush against him almost immediately. He tasted like alcohol and soft delight, like a secret and thinly-veiled passions that made him so unfamiliar to you.

So desirable.

"Do you?" He hoarsely repeated as you climbed onto his lap and he began to maneuvered the pieces of your dress out the way.

You shivered as the coldness seeped into your naked skin and he began to trace every spot in your chest with damp kisses. You swallowed hard when his lips trailed up your neck and stopped just below your ear, "Do you love me?"

And with a breathless mouth, you finally whispered. "I do."

[anatay004]

ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴛᴜʀɴꜱ ɢʀᴇʏ | ᴊᴀᴄᴀᴇʀʏꜱ ᴠᴇʟᴀʀʏᴏɴ (ᴘᴀʀᴛ ꜰᴏᴜʀ)

After heated arguments and tensions, feelings are finally revealed, but things can only go downhill when certain words aren’t chosen correctly and misinterpretations happen.

warnings: Targaryen incest.

Note: I just wanted to clarify that in this piece of fiction Jacaerys is not a minor. Despite the confusion with his age throughout the show, in this story he is over 18 and so is the reader. The reader is supposed to be a little older, actually, since she’s Rhaenyra’s true sister.

Also, thanks @thesithdiaries for the help!

ꜱʜᴇ ʟᴏɴɢᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜʀᴏᴡ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀᴛ ʜɪᴍ.

ᴀ ᴄʜᴀɪʀ.

ʜᴇʀꜱᴇʟꜰ.

YOU WERE NOWHERE to be found.

After the heated argument with Jacaerys, the sun eventually settled over the bleak castle, but you were merely a ghost amongst the walls. Your handmaiden was growing anxious, she searched for you inside your chamber, she searched for you in the corridors, she searched for you in the darkest corners of the building, but there was no sight of you.

So, when her throat finally clogged with guilt, she hurried to inform Rhaenyra.

"Are you certain she's not here?" Rhaenyra questioned, her voice strangled with a hint of sheer shock and guilt altogether.

Your handmaiden nodded. "I am, your grace. I searched for her everywhere."

After hearing the news from Rhaenyra, Jacaerys was swift to deliver the command to search for you, he wanted every guard in the castle to explore the island even if the looming sky over their heads was threatening to pour down.

But then, as the night stole over the day and the clouds finally tore, Daemon broke to him the news. "Her dragon is not in the dragonpit."

His heart stopped.

"There's a fucking storm on the way," Jacaerys shouted, but his voice was muffled by the sheer blasts that ripped through the sky. "It's not safe, she is going to get hurt if she's still flying."

"We need to get inside, Jace," Daemon pushed forward, dropping a hand onto his shoulder to beckon him inside. "I'm sure she's alright, she's a fine rider, and you know it."

Jacacerys shrugged his touch away. "I'm going to look for her, Vermax is faster."

"Jace, listen to me – "

"– I will not lose her." Jacaerys declared, a hint of finality wrapped around his words as he spoke. His heart was hammering against his chest, he was on the brink of faltering at that moment – he was fucking scared.

What if you were hurt?

What if you never came back?

The questions burrowed deep beneath his chest until there was a hollow that ricocheted his fear. God, was he an idiot for making you run away.

He hated himself for mishandling his feelings. For not tethering what his heart felt to you, for not being able to act on them to dissipate the ridiculous hatred you both shared.

God, was he stupid.

But as the thoughts pestered his head and he made to walk towards the dragonpit, an enormous shadow fell upon him and he stopped when the deafening cry of your dragon roared in his eardrums. He exhaled a clouded breath as relief washed over him at the sight of your dragon landing and you on the sidesaddle.

"It's the princess!" The guards shouted as you began to climb down the dragon.

Jacaerys ran towards you, but the moment his figure stumbled into your line of vision, your dragon slithered and made to growl at him.

"It's okay, Baelor," You shouted amidst pouring rain, stretching your arm out to reach for your dragon's face to place a gentle touch. "He's rotten, he'll only make you sick if you eat him."

In another situation, Jacaerys would've felt indignant – even offended, but given the circumstances, he shut his mouth tight as he unbuttoned his coat to hold it over your head.

"What the hell were you thinking?" He demanded, trailing behind your frame as you made your way toward the castle with heavy steps. "You could've gotten yourself killed!"

"Good!" You shouted, trying to brush away the rain from your eyes with the back of your hand. "I'm sure that would have made you the happiest man alive!"

"Stop that – "

" – Why? I'm sure Baela would have taken my place without a heartbeat – " You spat, but the words froze on the tip of your tongue when he latched his hand onto your wrist and turned you around to face him. He was drenched, his hair was plastered over his forehead, and bits of rain clung onto his eyelashes stubbornly, but you still detected the hue that blazed his irises.

He shook his head. "She could never."

Your eyebrows knitted together. "Admit it."

A wry laugh escaped his mouth. "I could never fucking replace you. Can you not see?"

A chill kissed down your spine, you tried to coherent an answer, but the searing look in his eyes quenched down and soften. "What?"

"Please, tell me you're not fucking blind." He breathed out, a hint of pled echoed in his words as you watched with utter confusion.

"I – "

" – Get inside the fucking castle! Do you both want to die from a disease? Figure your shit inside." Daemon interjected, and just like that, the tension dissipated and you rushed inside the castle without a word.

And he watched with saddened eyes.

__________________________

"Do know how worried I was?"

After drying and changing into a clean nightgown, you leaned back in one of your room's chairs, rubbing your temples in distress. Rhaenyra was berating you, explaining the wrong behind your impulsive actions, but you did not care a bit about her lecture.

Instead, you shut your eyes. "Can we continue with this lesson tomorrow, please?"

After throwing you a look, Rhaenyra eventually nodded and closed the distance between you and her with a kiss on your head. "You're incorrigible, you know that?"

You stifled a smile. "I've been told."

"We'll talk in the morning, you look rather terrible. You should rest well, sister." Rhaenyra teased, dismissing the blank expression on your face before wishing you a goodnight's sleep.

After dismissing your handmaiden and offering her an apology for the distress you had caused her, you were left alone in your chamber. You were exhausted, the drowsiness in your head made it hard for you to wallow in peace, and yet – you thought about him.

The feelings that retaliated in the pit of your stomach were hard to elucidate.

You hated him for making you feel like shit. For toying with your demure, for shooting words to kill and cornering you out of the castle.

God, did you hate him.

And yet, after tasting the tang of freedom, you turned Baelor back to Dragonstone.

Because while you could one-up Jacaerys and get under his skin, you could still make him come back to you. And, belatedly, you realized he could do the same exact thing to you.

But why?

You reeled over the question for an hour and fumbled with the strands of your hair, braiding and undoing it for the sake of keeping yourself busy. You wouldn't elucidate the matter, you ran around the same enigma without a hint of relief as you held back a breath.

What did Jacaerys mean?

When did he say you couldn't be that blind?

And he couldn't replace you?

But yet he called you a whore.

"This is stupid." You eventually whispered, pinching the bridge of your nose before deciding to climb back to your feet. Hugging your arms, you walked out of your chamber and fugitively made to walk down a few stairs as the coldness seeped into your skin.

When you were finally outside his chamber, you hesitantly raised your arm and knocked, only to falter on your spot when the door parted. Jacaerys looked terrible, the moonlit corridor uncovered the dark circles under his eyes, his nose was puffy, and his face marred with evident sickness that made worry surge through you.

"What happened to you?" You whispered, stepping inside to slide an arm behind his back and steady his body. He leaned tiredly against you, dropping an arm behind your neck as you maneuvered him back to his bed.

"I think it was the rain and the cold." He mumbled, but his voice was a rough timbre that caught you off guard. You eased him down onto his pillow, watching as his body collapsed almost immediately at the faint gesture.

"I'm going to call a healer," You rushed, trying to stifle the panic that was slipping out your mouth, but he reached for your hand to stop you.

"Please, don't," He hoarsely mumbled, tracing patterns over your hand with the pad of his thumb as he watched you with feverish eyes.

"Jace," You breathed out, unable to hide the panic that was breaking through your face. His gaze softened, however, as the nickname subconsciously ripped past your lips.

"You've never called me that before." He sluggishly pointed out.

You blinked, belatedly realizing he was right. "I-I'm sure I have done it before."

He shook his head. "I would have remembered. The bitter name sounds dulcet in the sound of your voice, like honey and summer altogether. I could never forget that."

You tried to convince yourself he was mumbling incoherences, that he was under the influence of a searing fever that was making him speak. So, you tried to ignore the faint heat that burned your cheeks. "You're speaking nonsense."

"I swear I am not," He swiftly replied, looking back at you with pure-lit irises that made you hold back your breath. "I swear I love the sound of your voice, when it wraps around vowels and turns them mellifluent, it makes me hopeful."

"I – "

" – Why can't you see it?" He questioned, his eyebrows knitted in utter confusion as you tilted your head. "I live in the shadow of your vagueness, picking up the bits of warmth you leave behind with every step you take. And yet, you dare not to look my way."

You swallowed.

He wasn't speaking nonsense.

He was throwing confessions.

"You never mentioned this before," You argued, climbing onto the bed. He looked up tiredly, trying to coherent an answer as you leaned closer to place the back of your hand against his forehead. "You're burning..."

"I'll go away in a minute," He whispered and leaned into your palm when it slide down to curve against his warm cheek. "Just stay."

You inhaled softly, brushing his skin with the pad of your fingers. He seemed so vulnerable, so different from the person you encountered just a few hours ago. His usual nonchalant facade shattered before you – he seemed kind and loving, and for a second, you believed it.

"You're so deceiving." You admitted.

He almost chuckled. "You're the one to talk."

You opened your mouth to answer, but the words clogged in your throat when he fisted a piece of your nightgown and tugged it to make you lean closer. Your breath stilled, his face was merely an inch from touching your skin.

He only looked back at you, ignoring the evident surprise that flitted across your face when he eventually shifted his head so that his lips could brush against yours. The kiss was fleeting, but it captured the warmth of denial, the clashing of two feelings, and the heat of desire that you so often tried to quench down.

"Don't ever leave," He suddenly pled, searching for your gaze when the kiss broke and you instinctively leaned back. "I'm begging you.”

Caught off guard, you whispered. "I won't."

"I apologize for the things I said about you earlier. They were horrible and untrue, and I  – " He paused, swallowing hard as your eyebrows knitted together in thought. " – Sometimes, I don't know how to handle the feelings I have for you. They're deceiving and I don't know how to control them, I really fucking don't."

The air rushed out of your lungs.

After years and years of troubling encounters and unknowing feelings, you finally realized what years of hatred failed to make you look.

He had feelings for you.

And so did you.

"I – "

"– Tomorrow you'll be my wife, anyway." He sluggishly whispered, blearily blinking in fatigue as he leaned down. "We will have all the time in the world to figure it out. Just you and I."

You smiled and draped the sheets over his body without a word. It was peculiar, the feeling that grew on your chest as he lulled himself to sleep, talking about you and him in lucid whispers. You wondered, how long had he felt that way?

But then, as you held his hand, something wounding unconsciously slipped out of his mouth. It was low, but it had strained your ears and you stilled at his sudden words. "A whore for a wife, such a silly thought I had. But can you blame me? All my life I've seen men surround you like dogs, and I've never seen you once complain about it. How could I not?"

Suddenly, as if his touch had suddenly torched your skin, you flinched away. He was half-asleep, but his words were lucid and complete, and you tried to swallow the knot that clogged your throat.

I'm so fucking stupid, you thought.

Wiping the tear that had raced down your face, you climbed back to your feet and furiously walked out the door without another word.

He could never love you.

Not like you wanted, anyway.

So, you called a healer and then made your way to your chamber with disappointment again.

[anatay004]

ʟᴏᴠᴇ & ᴘᴀɪɴ | ᴊᴀᴄᴀᴇʀʏꜱ ᴠᴇʟᴀʀʏᴏɴ (ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ)

After your betrothed to Jacaerys, there’s still some enmity that lingers between you and him. And now, things are starting to complicate between you too as feelings start to show.

warnings: Targaryen incest.

Part four:

ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜꜱʏ ɪꜱ ᴀɴ ᴜɢʟʏ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴ

ʙᴜᴛ ɪᴛ ᴛᴇʟʟꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴜᴛʜ.

THE NEXT MORNING, you woke up alone as the sunlight streamed in through the windows. For a few minutes, you rested quietly as the warmth of the sheets seeped into your skin. The remnants of last night seemed vague—Jacaerys knocking on the door, an exchange of a couple of insults, and his body brushing against yours in the middle of the night.

But the vestiges soon faded and you were left with a cloud of questions in the back of your head that made you nibble your bottom lip.

Perhaps, it was nothing, you thought.

Then, a soft knock broke into your reverie. For a second, you considered pulling the sheets over your head and turning to the other side, but the knocking soon became repetitive. So, with an audible groan, you climbed out of bed.

"Yes?"

To your surprise, Lucerys was the one to stumble into your line of vision. He was standing outside the door, offering a smile as he shifted uncomfortably on his heels. "Um, hi."

Surprised, you raised an eyebrow in sudden question. "Oh, is everything okay?"

"Ern – of course," Luke answered, but the words rushed through his lips almost immediately and your eyebrows knitted together in evident confusion.

"Luke, are you okay – "

" – Don't walk into the council room." Luke blurted out suddenly, taking a step back in almost regret when you tilted your head in surprise. "I– well, I heard some people are truly mad at you today. So, I figured it'll be best to warn you."

To say you were confused at that moment was an understatement. You had only been in Dragonstone for less than a day, how much trouble could you have possibly caused in less than twenty-four hours?

"Do you know why?" You questioned, your voice muffled as you looked down at Luke.

Hesitant, he nodded. "It's about the letters."

"Letters? But I haven't sent any letters."

Luke shook his head. "Not yours, for you."

You frowned. "I supposed my brothers could have sent some rather disrespectful – "

" – They're from suitors." Luke finally clarified, his muscles tensed as he allowed the words to escape his mouth. "Hundreds of them."

Your eyes widen. "Oh."

It was impossible, the word of your betrothal could not have traveled that fast across Westeros in only a matter of days. You could only imagine the things that were written in those letters—proposals, love confessions, and title offerings. However, you supposed it was harmless now, you were to marry Jacaerys by the king's order and nothing could change that.

And yet, you wondered.

"Luke, by any chance, did your brother read through those letters?"

"That's the problem," Luke cleared his throat, fumbling with his fingers awkwardly as he clarified. "Jacaerys read through all of the letters, and I mean all of them."

"Oh."

"It's really bad."

"I understand," you eventually whispered, inhaling a sharp breath before Luke offered you his hand in comfort and you squeezed it.

"I could walk you around the castle if you wish to avoid him. I wouldn't mind at all."

A faint smile curved your lips as you raked a hand through his hair. " I would love that."

__________________________

The hour with Luke was like a fresh take of air. Despite not seeing each other for a long time, the conversations were natural and the moment was almost blissful. In a couple of minutes, you learned about his character, he was valiant yet often doubted his agility and strength.

"That's nonsense, I'm sure you're braver than many grown men around here."

"I am not, auntie."

You slowed down your pace and soon stopped to look at him squarely in the face. "Very well, then what if I named you my protector? Would that ensure my trust in your strength, Luke?"

His eyes widen in disbelief. "You would do that?"

"Of course, I would. I swear it."

But before a smile could curve his lips, the beatific moment was interrupted when a knight approached you and beckoned for you to follow him back into the castle. Uneasy, Luke threw you a look of concern, but you dismissed it with a faint smile that made his muscles relax.

"I'll look for you, Luke."

In truth, you weren't sure of what to expect. You supposed a bit of tension would welcome you once you stepped inside the council room, but nothing too harsh or unpleasant, right? After all, you weren't necessarily responsible for such letters, it was something that accompanied you ever since you became of age.

And yet, you felt a stricken sensation writhing in the pit of your stomach. It was the feeling that often crashed down when you knew you were in trouble – when you knew it was bad.

So, holding back your breath, you finally stepped inside the room. Rhaenyra was the first person to acknowledge your presence, but to your surprise, she welcomed you with a gentle smile, despite her tense posture and worried facade. "Dear sister, I apologize for the sudden call."

"It's alright, I was – awake, anyway."

And then, as you scrutinize the room, your eyes eventually landed on Jacaerys. He was serious, his lips were pressed into a thin line as he tapped his fingers softly against the parchment letters. There was a furious expression on his face, the most calmest and silent sort of anger you had ever seen in anyone before.

And you almost relished it.

Almost.

"Is there a problem?" You questioned, as a feigned look of innocence settled over your features. "I hear the matter was urgent."

"It is," Jacaerys spat suddenly, throwing you a heated look as he leaned back on his chair. "Did you know Lord Jason Lannister wants you as his wife? Upon learning of our arrangement, he is rather desperate and offers you gold and diamonds, along with some very specific descriptions of what he plans to do on your wedding night if you do accept to leave me."

For a second, the silence that followed almost suffocated you.

He was looking at you so intensely – searchingly, as though he was trying to decipher every emotion that flitted across your face over the space of just a few seconds. You tried to dismiss the sudden tension, so, startled, you blinked. "Is that so?

Wrong answer.

"Is that so?" Jacaerys wryly mocked, but the brown hue in his irises darkened as he darted a menacing look toward your direction. "Shit, where you expecting more?"

"Well, not necessarily – "

" – or, perhaps, were expecting from anyone in particular? Because I have all of fucking Westeros scattered over this damn table." Jacaerys suddenly stood up, his voice raised a few decibels as he fisted the letters and threw them over the table.

Rhaenyra threw him a look. "Jace..."

You frowned.

The expression on your face was elusive. You weren't sure of what to even think of the matter. You looked back at Jace with a confused gaze, you couldn't comprehend what was so damn troubling about a few lords sending you letters?

You were going to marry him anyway.

So, why was he so furious?

"Why does it even matter?" You boldly questioned, taking a deliberate step closer to his frame. "They're letters, Jacaerys, just letters."

He let out a bitter laugh. "That's perfect then. While I'm played the jester, let everyone in Westeros know that my betrothed is free to whoever offers the biggest diamond."

A sudden tang of venom pestered your tongue as you processed his words. There he was again, shooting words to kill, but this time, you began to close the distance between you and him. "I've done nothing but my duty. I've played the role of your betrothed without sin and yet you dare to insinuate I'm a whore?"

He clenched his jaw. "I never – "

"If I remember correctly, a lord was recently killed for throwing that word cowardly to your mother. It'll be a shame, really, if my father hears from me that my betrothed is nothing but similar to his dear uncle."

He paused for a second, taking a moment to analyze the emotions that flitted across your face. You looked at him back with searing anger, but then he fell back a step as he whispered. "I'm tired of this fucking nonsense."

Hopeful, you held back a breath. For a moment, you were certain he was going to call off the wedding. For just a split second, you were certain he was going to let you go.

But things usually didn't go your way.

So, when he finally opened his mouth to speak, he turned away from you with a look of certainty. "We are to marry tomorrow. Do whatever it's necessary, mother, it doesn't have to be mesmerizing or crowded, just a ceremony that would ensure my wife doesn't run away at the presented opportunities."

You faltered on your spot.

"You're unbelievable," you breathed out, a wry chuckle ripped through your lips. "You'd rather continue with this farce than let me go?"

"Why?" He suddenly dared, his face an inch from brushing your skin as he clenched his jaw. "So you can marry Lord Lannister? Or, perhaps, Sir. Criston Cole?"

"I would've been far more content with either of those options." You mumbled lowly. It wasn't true, of course, but somehow, that made him falter on his spot. The brief emotion of hurt flickered in his eyes the moment the words slipped out, it was so swift that you almost missed, but it had been there.

Until he whispered, "I would've assumed, I heard they like to sleep around too."

You were unsure of how it happened. After unrelenting for so long, the sudden tears that pricked the back of your eyelids finally made you realize how painful his words truly were. It wasn't about the insinuation, it was about the wound that ripped open inside your chest like flesh when he toyed with you.

You felt like an object.

He treated you like an object.

Like a sullied trophy for insecurities and only his.

And, the truth was, you'd never slept with anyone. You were ambitious, of course, but never stupid enough to will before a man because he simply carried precious stones. God, were you burning with anger and self-deprecating thoughts in that second, but it was futile to fight back anymore, so you blinked back the tears.

After a second, regret stole over his face. Your cheeks tinged with pink hues, the corners of your mouth dropped, and the unshed tears that you held began to collect in your eyelashes.

"I didn't mean it." Jacaerys breathed out, swallowing hard when you shook your head. "I-I swear, I didn't fucking mean it, I just – "

" – I would like to be dismissed." You requested, throwing your sister a pleading look. She was startled, standing in the corner of the room with nothing but wide eyes as she witnessed the scene she was exactly afraid of.

"Of course," she whispered at last.

" – Wait, don't leave yet — "

But you ignored him, and immediately traced back your steps to your chamber without a word. And Jacaerys watched, as you stepped out the room, stealing the sunlight that streamed in through the windows as you walked away.

[anatay004]

ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴛᴇ | ᴊᴀᴄᴀᴇʀʏꜱ ᴠᴇʟᴀʀʏᴏɴ (ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ)

After your betrothed to Jacaerys, there’s still some enmity that lingers between you and him. But now, things are starting to dissipate as the days rush and the wedding gets closer.

warnings: Targaryen incest.

chapter 3 now up:

ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰʟɪʀᴛɪɴɢ

ᴏʀ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛɪɴɢ ᴀ ꜰɪɢʜᴛ?

YOU COULDN'T SLEEP that night. The remnants of the previous events and the announcement of your betrothal to Jacaerys Velaryon kept you awake. After tossing and turning, you eventually pushed up onto your elbow and blearily blinked, looking around your chamber with utter fatigue.

"This is ridiculous," you mumbled to yourself, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. It wasn't in your nature to allow worry and shock to intrude into your head all at once.

And yet, you couldn't help it.

The thoughts of being tethered to Jacaerys forever retaliated in the pit of your stomach. After six years, you knew he still hated your guts, he still hated your character, he still hated everything that made you – and you didn't even know the reason behind it. Somehow, you could not imagine a more detestable faith than the one you were given, although, he wasn't as bad as you once imagined him to be.

On the contrary, he was almost nice to look at.

You fumbled with your fingers at the thought of the brown strands of hair that pricked just below his ears. At the infuriating grin that curved his lips and the soft color of his eyes that curiously lit when he looked back at you.

Stop that, you thought.

"Idiot," you eventually mumbled, tossing the sheets aside to climb out of bed. After the long night, you decided to step out of your chamber and walk down the corridors of the castle to clear your head. You hated feeling this way, it just wasn't like you to stay up at night with lingering thoughts and uneasy feelings.

But there you were.

"Did you lose some sleep over me?"

Faltering on your spot, you felt the sudden wave of sheepishness rolling over your skin like cream again. But you took in a deep breath and turned to face him with an unfazed demeanor. "You would love that, wouldn't you?"

"I wouldn't mind it," Jace admitted, taking a few deliberate steps closer to dissipate the distance between you. Abandoning your thoughts for a minute, you stood tall to meet his height – but your head barely brushed his chin, and he chuckled at the blatant height difference.

"What do you want?"

"I'm just enjoying my future wife's company, that's all." His lips itched at his last words, and it made you wonder if he was teasing you, in which case – it was rather annoying.

"Why did you agree to the arrangement of this marriage? Was it to get back at me?"

His eyebrows jumped. "Me? I had no saying in this, trust me. I would much rather marry your brother Aemond than share a bed with you and your hundreds of diamond necklaces."

There it was.

The thinly-veiled insinuations of you being a whore. The truth was, it never bothered you before, his words were never something that touched your heart to the point of utter anger, but that night, it made your blood boil.

So, you clenched your jaw and made to walk away, but he was quick to latch his fingers onto your wrist to pull you back into the same position. But this time, you could smell the citrus aroma that lingered on his neck, and up close, you could see the faint bits of brown that seeped into his irises so gently, and – just like that, you realized a short step would've sufficed to close the distance between your lips.

You swallowed hard.

Subconsciously, he looked down at your lips. "I wonder, how many lords will I have to kill when the day of our wedding comes and they realize they can't have you anymore?"

A chill kissed down your spine, the low tone of his voice caught you off guard. It was menacing and teasing and honest all at the same time – it almost made you exhale a shaky breath. But then, you noticed the way his muscles wracked with tension when your hip accidentally pressed against his lower stomach, and something suddenly clicked in your head.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," you suddenly dropped your voice into susurrus, leveling your vision to look at him squarely in the face before warmly breathing out. "After all, I doubt you have the things I love to go after."

If looks could have killed, you would have been three feet underground in that moment. There was a fuming tick in his jaw that made you grin, but before you could fall back a step, he tightened his grip around your wrist and pulled you closer. His lips brushed against the corner of your mouth, a feather-like touch that made you freeze as he suddenly challenged. "I wouldn't be so sure about that."

And then he placed a fleeting kiss on your cheek, but as if you had suddenly been an open flame, he let go quickly of your touch and spun on his heel to walk away from you.

With that, he disappeared in the shadows and left you alone in the middle of the corridor.

__________________________

Before dawn, you were wakened up by your handmaiden. After last night's announcement, you were to travel back to Dragonstone with Jacaerys and your sister Rhaenyra but not before biding your brothers a farewell.

"I can't believe you are to marry a bastard," Aegon deadpanned, but when your face fell and your arms dropped from his waist, he tightened his grip on you and lowly whispered, "Fine, I suppose I apologize for that."

"Don't, it's only the truth," Aemond soon interjected, but despite his harsh words and your uncomfortable shift, he embraced you into a warm hug. "Don't ever forget where you truly are from, dear sister, we certainly will not."

Careful not to ruin the moment, you stepped back and gave them a faint smile. "Despite your stupidity, I must admit I will miss you both."

Aemond scuffed but nodded. "As will I."

"I suppose you will send letters, will you not?"

"I will," You clarified, stifling a smile that fought to curve the corners of your lips. Despite your brothers' words and idiotic actions, it was evident they both loved you as who you were. "After all, I wasn't able to give a farewell to our father. I will most likely write within a few hours to hear from him, I feel a bit concerned."

After that, you eventually walked away to meet with your betrothed. He was waiting for you with Rhaenyra, but he was adamant in dismissing your presence for some reason. After last night, you supposed things would have softened a bit, after all – he was the one that kissed you, but you were far from right.

After the tension ensued in the atmosphere, your sister decided to finally break the silence. "It has been some time since you and I have shared the same roof over our heads, sister. I'm truly honored to have you by our side again." 

"Of course," you answered, and reached for her hand, to which she gladly squeezed.

"We will fly on dragon back to Dragonstone, I suppose you know how to ride, princess?" Jacaerys questioned, but he didn't bother to spare a glance in your direction as he maneuvered his way toward his dragon.

Of course, you knew.

And he knew it.

"What makes you think I don't?" You bitterly questioned, but he didn't design to answer, and, somehow, that made you bite back your tongue lividly. You were starting to detest the way he was waving you off, it was almost indignant and irritating at the same time.

So, when Sir. Criston Cole's figure suddenly stumbled into the corner of your eye, a mischievous smile itched your lips.

Your dragon was waiting for you, his chest was pressed against the ground as he watched you make your way towards him. So, when it was time to climb onto his back, you turned towards Sir. Criston Cole with alluring eyes that made him walk towards you at once.

"Allow me, princess – "

" – Oh, that won't be necessary, Sir. Criston," Jacaerys voice suddenly pressed behind your ears, and before you could react, he placed his hands around your hips and lift you into the air without a warning. "I got my betrothed."

Throwing him a glare, you eventually came back to reality and reached the sidesaddle, but not before his fingers squeezed your hips and you almost lost your footing on the climb. After that, you threw Sir. Criston Cole an apologetic look and he gladly accepted it with a nod.

"Farewell, princess." He called you.

"Thank – "

" – we are to leave now," Jacaerys interjected.

And with that, you departed King's Landing rather annoyed.

__________________________

After the tedious journey and the previous lack of sleep, you arrived at Dragonstone with tremendous fatigue that made you apologize and dismiss yourself to your chamber. The room was nice and fit to your standards, so it took you no time to fall asleep at once.

Unfortunately, the peace that blessed your dreams was soon annihilated when the loud knocking on your door jolted you awake. You cursed under your breath, the lack of sleep made you climb out of bed with a menacing look on your face as you parted the door.

"Not you again – "

" – Yes, your future husband."

" - Can you stop calling yourself that – " but the words faded in between the sudden yawns that made your nose wrinkle up tiredly. Subconsciously, Jacaerys smiled at the fleeting innocent facade that flashed across your features without you even realizing it.

"Oh, did I disturb your sweet dreams, love?" The feigned tone of innocence in his voice made you glare at him, but the drowsiness inside your flesh and muscles made you dismiss him almost immediately. You began to slowly trace your steps back to your bed, but your vision suddenly turned bleary and you stumbled forward.

Jace was quick to race towards your frame, within a split second, he slid one arm behind your waist and the other behind your knees to lift your body and carry you towards the bed with an evident groan of annoyance.

"Fuck, why are you so heavy?" He tried to deadpan, but when there was no answer and your face suddenly buried into his neck, he began to grow anxious. "Are you alright?"

"Shut up." You mumbled, as the bed deepened with the weight of both of your bodies.

"Perhaps, Sir. Criston should be accommodating you and not me, don't you think?" He suddenly uttered, withdrawing his arm back to move a little further away, as if suddenly realizing you were both laying in bed together, but your hand latched onto his sleeve.

Absently minded, you pulled him back towards your side with a low whisper. "Perhaps."

Relishing the sudden gesture, he stifled a faint smile as he slide his arm around you, but this time, your face relaxed under his touch.

You were almost asleep when he finally decided to drop his gaze and look down at you. Your snow-white hair was matted and splayed against his arm, it contrasted so preciously against your face as if it was almost made for you and just you.

Your body was curled to his side, hands resting underneath your chin like a small child. Your eyes were closed, your long eyelashes brushed against your cheekbones as your chest rose and fell with even breaths. And his fingers suddenly itched to touch your face, to trace with the pad of his fingers all your dainty features that he so often detested – because they weren't his.

God, did he hate the thought of that?

But it was true.

He hated how all eyes were on you.

He hated how many suitors were at your feet.

He hated not having you to himself.

But, of course, he would much rather die than admit it out to the wind. So, when he was certain you were sleeping, he pulled away from your touch and made his way out without a word as if almost running away from you.

[anatay004]

ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ɴᴏᴛ | ᴊᴀᴄᴀᴇʀʏꜱ ᴠᴇʟᴀʀʏᴏɴ (ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ)

Jacaerys hated you ever since you were kids. And you weren’t even sure about the reason behind it, but you did not care, perhaps, that’s why he was so adamant in being close to you. Or that was, until you were betrothed.

warnings: Targaryen incest.

Part two:

ᴛʜᴇʏ ʜᴀᴛᴇ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ

ɴᴏ, ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ. ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ

YOU WERE BEAUTIFUL.

Perhaps, it was the snow-white hair that cascaded down your back, the spellbound features that enhanced your face, or the brown hue that seeped into your irises so luminously. Whatever it was, it bewitched whoever's eyes landed on you so effortlessly and you knew it.

It was the perfect facade for your evil.

Or, at least, that's what Jacaerys thought.

And every chance he had, he spat it right at you without a bit of hesitation.

"You know, it's not ethical nor polite to lead on lords in exchange of a few gifts." Jacaerys wryly commented one night, watching as you held up a dainty, diamond necklace with utter amusement. You were unfazed by his presence, however, and continued to show off your present to your sister, Helaena.

"It's not ethical nor polite." You mimicked, dismissing his presence at once. He hated when you waved him off like that and he wasn't quite sure of the reason behind the odd feeling that retaliated in the pit of his stomach when you did so – but he detested it all the same.

"Perhaps, you should try a shorter dress, I heard some lords hand over bigger diamonds to those who lack manners." He continued to push, and when there was a tick in your jaw, he stepped back with a victorious grin on his lips.

"The dragon only fires when he feels intimated," Helaena whispered to herself, as she watched you throw Jace an irked glare.

"Don't you have something better to do?" You replied, but your tone was almost idle. "Perhaps, something like losing yet another insolent combat to my brothers?”

"No, why do you ask, princess? Do you want to sneak out the castle again?"

Arguments like these usually ended with you hitting the back of his head or with him running to your sister, Rhaenyra, to tell on you. Either way, there was always a conflict between you two and nobody knew the peculiar reason behind it.

But, despite your adamant character, your terrible taste in humor, and your worrisome lack of integrity. There was one thing that made Jacaerys Velaryon's blood sear with fury more than anything else in the world and that was – when you flirted with Sir. Criston Cole.

With a clenched jaw, he would often watch you approach Sir. Criston Cole with a smile tugging at your lips. And he wasn't even sure why you did that because your smile wasn't even that beautiful. Yes, your lips were tinged with the perfect pink hue and yes, the skin on your lips seemed soft like cotton, but that was it. It wasn't Sir. Criston Cole worthy or whatever.

But it was well-known the knight had a soft spot for you, so, he watched you annoyed.

"What brings you here, princess?" Sir. Criston would question you, stepping out of the combat field to approach you. Jacaerys couldn't help, but roll his eyes at your conceited entrance. He knew what you were up to, he knew you too well, better than your brothers, better than Rhaenyra – better than anyone else in the castle.

So, he knew your answer before the words could even pass through your lips.

"Just pastimes, Sir. Criston," Jacaerys' mimicked under his breath, and Aegon, who was standing next to him, couldn't help but burst out a laugh that made you look.

You threw them a heated glare but before Sir. Criston could turn to berate them, you placed a hand on his arm. "Don't mind them, Sir. Criston, they are only idiots. I was just passing by to admire your teaching skills, perhaps, my nephews and brothers could learn a thing."

"Of course, princess," Sir, Criston answered and a faint grin itched his lips when you looked up at him with a knowing look of mischief. "Were you planning on placing a bet?

There it was.

That stupid game you played.

Between fawning looks and grins, you would nibble the bottom of your lip pensively. He was asking you to pick who he would allow to step victoriously out of the field, whether it had to be your stupid brothers or your nephews.

"Would it touch your heart if I admitted I love you, dear sister?" Aegon began suddenly, trying to convince you to pick his side and Aemond soon followed with the same concept.

"Well, in that case, you're the best auntie in the world." Luke jumped in too, and the smile that curved your lips made him almost jump in excitement because it indicated you were leaning towards his side.

That was until Jace decided to open his mouth.

"Perhaps, if we had diamonds to offer, she wouldn't take so long to pick."

That's when your lips tighten into a line.

"My brothers seem victorious today."

It took those simple words to slip out of your lips, for Jace and Luke to step out of the field with jagged bruises streaking all over their faces.

God, did he detest you.

And things never got easier – not for him, at least. It was harder to watch you walk down the corridors of the castle doing absolutely nothing, but everything at the same time. With your angelic features, your divine posture, and blessed taste in dresses that highlighted your structure – he was losing his mind. So, when his mother announced they were leaving King's landing, he was more than relieved.

"At least I won't have to see your face again." He announced certainly, as you watched him step into your chambers with utter amusement.

"You came to my chambers just to tell me that?" You questioned, a thinly-veiled grin tugged at your lips when he paused to coherent an answer. "You know, it's not normal for someone like you to hate me so much."

"Perhaps, if you acted the role you were given, I wouldn't have to."

You raised an eyebrow in silent question. "And what do you mean by that?”

"You don't care about your duties," he blatantly explained, but there was something else in his tone that made you tilt your head – but you couldn't quite place a finger on it. "You use your power to manipulate others and have everything done your way."

"I'm honored?"

That made him throw you a look.

"That's exactly what I'm talking about. You don't care about integrity, you rather flirt your way through trouble without having any consequences. Unlike us, we have to do everything right. Whatever we speak, whatever we see, whatever we breathe...we have to think twice about it. It's not fair!"

You went silent after that, for a moment, he believed you were not going to deigned him an answer, but to his surprise, you walked towards him. You stopped when you were merely inches away from his face, your expression was almost unreadable as you whispered. "Perhaps, I don't have anything to prove...unlike you."

Your tone wasn't harsh nor menacing, but the bitter taste of your words made him flinch. It wasn't in your nature to mention any references to the rumors that questioned his biological father, and he knew it, but in that moment, you couldn't help yourself. He was pestering you, so, you jumped to the fastest solution that would get rid of him.

And it worked because, in a manner of seconds, he spun on his heel and made his way out. And curiously, that was the last interaction you both had in a very long time.

__________________________

Six years had to come along for you to meet Jacaerys Velaryon again. The line of succession for Driftmark had been challenged then, or so you heard after Lord Corlys Velaryon was thought to be dead. So, naturally, your sister traveled to King's Landing along with her children to make their appeal to the crown.

And the truth was, you did not care.

You were too preoccupied with your schedule. Over the years, your dainty features grew angelic and your body had curvaceously matured – you'd become a woman. And the word traveled fast around Westeros, numerous lords began to send ravens, asking for your hand and the king's blessing.

You dismissed them, of course.

But the Queen didn't.

So, in the middle of that night, you were reading through hundreds of proposals, hoping to find amidst the parchment papers something alluring that would make you choose a husband. It never happened, of course, and your handmaiden soon found you half-asleep across your bed.

"Princess, you need to wake you, the King has requested your presence at once."

You groaned tiredly but soon climbed out of bed. It took you a few minutes to dress and when you finished, you looked over at the gilded mirror that reflected the mesmerizing black and crimson fabric of your gown that wrapped around your frame almost perfectly.

You arrived late – as expected, and when you finally stepped into the dining hall, the room ensued with silence as everyone turned to look at you. You weren't intimidated, and yet, you couldn't exactly decipher the look on everyone's faces as you walked towards your father, King Viserys, to greet him with a kiss on the cheek.

"We've been waiting for you, my love."

"I apologize, father, I was attending some important duties as you may recall." You responded, taking a seat next to your brother, Aemond, who was quick to lean closer to you.

"If you call sleeping a duty, then we understand, dear sister." Aegon deadpanned across the table, earning a few laughs from the guests.

You threw him a glare. "I did not ask you."

"Do not mind him, daughter, and let us eat."

And then, after turning to face your Uncle, Daemond and greeting your sister, Rhaenyra, you searched across the table for the infamous Jacaerys. After six years, you wondered how his annoying features and tremendous small frame had turned over time, but to your dismay, you could not recognize him anywhere.

Frustrated, you leaned closer to Aemond, "Where's the idiot?"

Belatedly, you realized the decibels of your voice weren't as low as you had expected and, by the time Aemond had stopped laughing, the boy next to him cleared his throat. For a second, you could not coherent a single sentence as his face suddenly stumbled into your line of vision.

He wasn't a little boy anymore.

He was grown with short, brown hair that reached just below his ears and dazing brown irises, he made you freeze by looking back at you. It was almost troubling how quiet you had suddenly gone because it wasn't like you to wear sheepishness at the sight of men – but there you were, holding back your breath.

And after a second, a boyish grin itched his lips.

God, no, you thought.

"It's nice to see you again, princess."

You didn't respond.

"Sister, a word of advice, don't ignore your betrothed like that, it's rather rude." Aemond's voice broke into your reverie, and you blinked in blatant confusion as he stifled a smirk.

"What are you talking about?"

"I proposed a marriage between Jacaerys and you, daughter. It will do us well to leave our differences aside for once as I am only getting worse. During the appeal, we agreed this would help keep our houses together, my love."

You couldn't believe it.

How dare he.

How dare everyone.

"I – " you began, but the words clogged your throat and you could not speak for a second. Subconsciously, you swept Jace a glance, but he was looking back with a heartfelt grin that made you clenched your jaw lividly. " – I need to be excused, father, I feel rather indisposed."

Before your father could open his mouth, you pushed back on you chair and traced your steps back to your chamber, slamming the door behind. All without you knowing, that Jacaerys leaned back on his chair that night with a rather content smile on his face.

[yeiowrites]

jace as your suitor headcanons

some more headcanons for our dreamiest prince <3

a/n: i need a suitor like jace lololol

i honestly believe that jace is such a romantic

the social status of the person he’ll be courting would not matter much to him, as long as he loves that person then you bet he’ll court you

either as a secret for now or publicly court you already

but let it be known that jace absolutely despises courting you in secret.

the rumors and issues circle around the red keep way faster than he wants it to be and he does not want you to be affected by it; doing his best to shield you from those degrading rumors and nonsense issues

when the rumors around both of you became too much, you tried to ask him if he wasn’t bothered by it

“y/n, they know nothing of what i feel for you, and they most certainly do not know anything about our actual relationship. i say let them talk, at least they have something to do.”

but the day he decides to court you publicly, it would be the day where you’d be saying goodbye to your other suitors because jace would absolutely UPSTAGE them

like let’s be real, jace is a patient guy but he is determined and competitive

and literally everyone in your family just loves him who wouldn’t lol

you’d just *poof* only focus on jace amongst others

love letters sent using ravens were usually what you received a lot when jace stayed in dragonstone with his family

sometimes you receive multiple ravens a day, all coming from jace

all of his letters would be the absolute purest; he’d talk about missing the feeling of being able to sneak you out in the middle of the night

or the way he’d get to give you gifts and “just because” flowers that he plucked from the godswood and see your reaction right in front of him

though you actually didn’t like the way he splurged and gifted you generously, you didn’t have a choice because of how persistent and persuasive jace was

you’d just be surprised and see a dozen flower vases filled with your favorite flower in your room

and sometimes in a particular occasion, your family will just give you a box with an extremely expensive-looking necklace inside and you’d think it was from them but it wasn’t

“wear this after dark? j. v.”

you wouldn’t think much of it but you still wear it, incredibly cautious that you might drop or damage the necklace

the sudden band playing out of your home making you bolt out of bed and run out

it was jace, of course. holding a big bouquet of flowers for you again.

“jace, what the hell is this!?”

“nothing much, perhaps you wanted some entertainment.” he smiles and you remember what you told him in the letter you sent him earlier that day.

it was just a simple letter of you complaining of the lack of things to do in your household. even saying, “i think i am going to die out of boredom. like, actually will”

“wouldn’t want my future betrothed dying out of boredom, hmm?”

the band continued to play as you stare at your suitor in disbelief, taking the bouquet he handed you while the neighboring houses also came to watch the band play

jace, being the person that he is, takes the flowers you held and sets it down to the bench outside of your home

he grabs your hand in his before asking you for a dance

a dance at night, with the band jace had bought, while the lords and people around your house watch the two of you

to say you were embarrassed is an understatement

your face was as red as the flowers he had gotten you, as red as the dragon in the flag of house targaryen; and jace absolutely enjoyed it

he laughed happily at your red cheeks as he lead you in the dance, swaying the both of you around to the rhythm of the band’s music while you cover your face in embarrassment

your hands pulled down as jace takes the liberty to watch your face closely, happy that you were enjoying yourself even with the sudden events

“gods, i hate you so much”

“that isn’t a nice thing to say to your prince”

the two of you smile goofily at that. soon enough, the two of you were joined by other couples in the town. your parents joining in on dancing as well as the elderly couple beside your home

another thing with having jace as your suitor is the exploring

either by horse, by foot, or by vermax

daily visits with vermax!

whenever jace would have a day free from his duties as the prince, he would always be with you

wanting to make sure that his significant other is well-accompanied and protected by him of course

the prince would fly you around westeros. stopping wherever you want. sometimes, you two would go undercover and explore the city

sometimes, you two would fly around blindly, letting vermax pick your destination and just hoping that you two would love wherever that is

or sometimes, the most frequent option, he’d let you stay in red keep

bringing you around as the two of you explore the beautiful halls and tapestries around king’s landing

he would even take you to the massive kitchen in the castle, cooking dishes for you while the helpers state at the prince in confusion

though you can’t actually confirm if the food he cooks for you are edible or not

eventually going to stay at his room to spend the day there while the two of you talk about nonsense things

random conversations and playful teasing

at the end of the day, being courted by jace is literally a dream

that man would fight, protect, love, care, and do literally anything for you

but he is still the prince. and sometimes you’d feel yourself unworthy of being treated this well by him, saying that there’s someone better than you for him

but he’ll reject that immediately. his playfulness disappearing as he makes it clear again for you, your entire heart falling at his words

“i do not wish for someone better than you, y/n. it is you i wish for. it is you whom i want in my life.”

[yeiowrites]

prettiest of them all

summary: being rhaenyra's lady-in-waiting ever since your mother passed, it was unfathomable that you and jace spent time with each other. however, until when can he restrict himself to just looking at you and treating you as a friend?

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader

notes: mild nsfw, wrote this since i'm kind of hitting a writing slump and i don't want to rn so yea wrote this on a whim again 😭 i hope y'all like it,, my peace offering after "remember me, always"

notes #2: also, if it's sort of confusing, basically ur mother is nyra's bestfriend. you and jace were basically born a year apart (jace is older) so when your mother passed, nyra took u under her wing and u and jace are basically childhood sweethearts <3

"I doubt anyone in the seven kingdoms can match your beauty, princess." You pause abruptly, "Or should I say... queen?" The two of you giggle with each other as you lock the necklace on the back of Rhaenyra's head.

The woman steps back from you and looks at her reflection in the mirror, turning slowly. You watched in awe as the woman, who was once as young as you are now, readied herself for the crowning in front of the masses.

When she finishes looking around, Rhaenyra turns to you.

"Shouldn't you be getting ready as well, Y/N?" She asks.

Your forehead creased, and you took a short glance at your statute before turning back at Rhaenyra. "Princess... I'm already dressed," you chuckle lightly at her.

"That isn't the dress I had tailored for you, Y/N," she playfully glares at you, walking to her drawer before grabbing something. You watched with anticipation as you heard the clanking of jewelry inside.

She pulls a beautiful ruby gemstone from it, beautifully placed in the middle of a Valyrian steel chain. You blink three times, your throat drying, when she starts walking over to you.

Rhaenyra saw the confused look on your face, which made her chuckle. "Calm down, Y/N, it's just a small gift."

"B-but... princess-" Rhaenyra shushes you, showing you the necklace up close. "Y/N, your mother was one of the people I hold closest to my heart."

"And when you were just a babe, you were always with me. When she left the world, I took you under my wing and treated you as my own.... Just as I had promised her." She sighs, pursing her lips as she sees your face drop a bit.

She runs her hand through your hair, "As your future queen, as your princess, I command you to accept this necklace. Wear it later, during my crowning." Rhaenyra places the piece of jewelry softly on the palm of your hand. Covering your hand with hers as she cradled your hand.

You turned to look deeply at the princess, lips apart as you nodded, placing your hand on top of hers as well.

"Very well, my future queen." The light-haired woman tenderly smiles at you before withdrawing her hands. "I... I hope you know that I am forever in your debt, Aunt Rhaenyra."

"It's nothing, really, Y/N. Now go change into your dress, I sent someone that would help you put it on." You nod at the older's statement as you were dismissed, a sly smile on her face.

You had walked quickly back to your quarters, excited to see the dress. The necklace was inside of a box that Rhaenyra had also given you, making sure that it wouldn't move much and cause damage as you were skipping through the halls of the Red Keep.

When you arrived in your room, there was a new hanger by your cabinet. You smile giddily, running to the hanger and pulling off the coat only to see such a beautiful dress in red, with laced red lantern sleeves and an off-shoulder neckline where the ruby necklace would sit nicely.

You didn't need someone to help you; with how ecstatic you were about wearing the dress, you wore it as soon as you saw it.

The dress slipped right on, perfectly fitting in everything. It hugged your chest area nicely, and its length was perfect. You could easily tell that Rhaenyra truly did take note of your measurements and style.

When you looked at yourself in the mirror, it was like the air in your body was knocked out of you. You looked so pretty, so elegant.

As you twirled around the mirror, a voice spoke.

"Pardon me for entering your room, but... the strap's a bit twisted," your body turned quickly, eyes narrowing as you were greeted by the princess' son,

Jacaerys.

He smiled tightly as he walked over to you, closing the door. "May I?"

You watched him with awestruck eyes as you nodded, seeing him dressed perfectly, feeling his fingertips on your skin as he fixed the strap on your dress.

"There," he breathes out. Jace walked forward before looking back at you, getting a full view of you in your dress.

The prince himself was already dressed. Clothed in the finest leather of the seven kingdoms, the sigil of House Targaryen incorporated into his outfit as he looked immaculate. Not much was changed in his hair, only that it was curled a bit like Lucerys'.

"Did you hear what I said, Y/N?" You hear his chuckle as you snap out of your trance.

When he sees the unaware look on your face, he laughs. "I said, you look pretty. Very. Possibly the prettiest in the whole seven kingdoms."

Your cheeks heat up at the sudden compliment, looking away from him and heading to your dresser.

"Your mother's the prettiest, my prince," you reply with a laugh, powdering your face. The sides of Jace's lips rise before he walks over to you.

"Well, I believe that I am allowed to exempt my own mother, don't I, Y/N?"

"Of course," you glare at him, his lips stretching into a teasing smile as his eyes catch onto the all-too-familiar jewelry box, knowing full well what's inside of it.

He unclasps the small lock on it, opens it, and turns to you. The two of you stare silently at the necklace before he pulls it out of the box.

You gulp nervously when you see him walk behind you, keeping his eyes fixated on your neck through the mirror. "Such a pretty neck," he thought.

"D'you know... that these types of necklaces," you hiss as the cold metal is placed onto your neck, Jace's hands feather-like as he maneuvered it skillfully. "Are incredibly strong?"

"They're a staple necklace of my family, red jewels and valyrian steel. Expertly crafted to withstand various things and experience a lot as well. Our ancestors used to wear it amidst battles; Queen Visenya, an example." He explained further. The lock of the necklace clicked upon his movement.

Your fingers touched the jewels on your neck in a cautious manner, not wanting to damage them. You glanced at Jace, seeing him watch you with his arms behind his back, his eyes trailing up and down your figure as his breath hitched when he locked eyes with you.

"Gods, has anyone already told you that you look incredible right now?" He breathes out, mouth agape, as he only registers how you look now.

The compliment makes you giggle like a young girl being teased by her crush.

"Oh, someone already has. It's like he likes me," you frown, faking innocence as you acted like you were thinking. The man in front of you slowly caught on to what you were trying to say.

"I think he does. I think he really, really does." Jace nods, practically confessing his feelings for you in such a discreet manner that it just makes your stomach fill with emotions.

A small smile comes to your lips as you step forward to look the prince in the eye. You beckoned him to lean down to you, Jace's eyebrows raising a bit in surprise before he complied.

You stood on your tiptoes, "I think... I like him as well."

Jace suddenly feels his whole body stop to think about what you just said. He blinks a bit, staring at your face—which basically lit up the room more than any other candle.

His mouth opened to speak, but no words came out; he was speechless.

The two of you have known each other since a child, having been with their family for as long as Jace could remember and being his long-time crush ever since your mother and Rhaenyra had introduced both of you to each other as a child.

And you felt the same. Every bit of feeling that Jace had for you all those years, you had for him as well.

Years of pining, of discreet flirting, of subtle touches—here you both are now.

"So does that mean- I'm uh, I'm your... " You scoff at the man's stammering, pulling him close by his collar and kissing him on the cheek. "Yes, Jacaerys."

He looks at you with wide eyes before he sighs, letting his instincts take over as he pulls you even closer by your waist, softly touching your lips with his. You smile a bit into the kiss, letting him take control of the kiss.

You felt his hands fall from your waist to your hips, squeezing the soft flesh before he pushes his body weight onto yours, backing you up until you hit the edge of your dresser.

The way Jace's tongue swiped and moved inside your mouth was skillful, as if he had lots of time in Dragonstone to practice for this very moment. He angled his head, using his hands to caress your face as he licked your lip, biting lightly on it.

Your hands gripped his biceps as you pulled away breathlessly, finding his hands right by your sides. His eyes darken as he opens them; your lips parted, panting for air, and your eyes were just as lust-blown as his; the sight was far from what he had imagined. It was better, much more erotic.

You felt something press against your thigh, something hard. Jace licked his lips before swallowing harshly.

"How much time do we have before my mother's crowning?" He asks, running his hand behind you as he takes note of the strings that tie your dress.

You inhaled sharply, your hands coming onto his chest as you held one of the buckles of his top.

"Twenty minutes, I think." You sighed, shrugging at him. He smirked at that, nodding at you before the strings of your dress suddenly loosened, the prince in front of you descending to his knees.

"Well then, let's make this fast, yeah?"

hearts, reactions, replies, and reblogs are very appreciated if you liked the story! <3 ^w^

jace taglist: @cosmicfairygirl @simrah1012 @lucerysvelaryonstan @lady-stark-winter-rose @moon1gt @aureliapappa @jcrsctrl @bobfloydluvsblackwomen @m4nd0l0r

[dragonsbabe]

How do you think they (Jace, Aemond, Aegon, and Daemon) would take you maidenhood?

(maybe waiting until the wedding night and making love to you or sneaking into your bedchamber and fucking you into the mattress)

omg this one is really good ✨

I'm sure Jacaerys would wait until your wedding night to take you. He wants to protect your honor and his. But he won't say no to heated make out sessions. Or some fun over the clothes. But in your wedding night he makes love to you the whole night and won't leave the room for days.

Aemond is the one who really waits until your wedding night. He doesn't try ANYTHING before marriage. Maybe just a few soft, slow and sweet make out sessions, but that's all. And in your special night he makes love to you. It's so romantic and passionate.

There is no way Aegon can wait until the wedding night. He is the one who would sneak into your bedchamber to fuck you. Since you two were betrothed he goes every night to your room to fuck you into the mattress. And after your wedding night he can't leave your room for days.

Daemon is such a tease. He is gonna wait until the wedding night, but as i said before, he is always teasing you. He's the one who starts hot make out sessions and the one who pushes you away when you try to slip your hand under his clothes. But he can't hold back in your wedding night. He goes feral for days.

[selkie-at-sea]

Can we just talk about Jace satisfying Aegon's wife right in front of him directly after Aegon told his betrothed that he would satisfy her if she needed? Cus honestly that was some king shit.

[lir-eerie]

The three boys feeling their baby kick inside their darlings stomach for the first time.

Aegon gets excited, looking up at you and asking if you saw that too. He'd give your belly kisses and talk to his baby.

*

Aemond smiles warmly and kisses your belly before planting one on your forehead. He'd tell you how beautiful you are carrying his child.

*

Jace is ecstatic. He would talk to your belly asking the baby to do it again. Jace keeps looking up at you with nothing but love and adoration.

[lir-eerie]

HC’s for Aegon, Aemond, jace with a daddy kink?

Aegon loves it, he's a perv. He thinks it's funny to call each other mommy and daddy in public. He's not crazy serious about it, if it gets you going then you can call him daddy all you want.

*

Aemond needs some convincing. He'd be way too focused on the psychology of wanting to call a sexual partner daddy. Eventually you may get him to let you call him daddy, but he won't make you do anything childlike.

*

Jace is confused. He has no idea what's going on and doesn't like it. Of all the things to call him in bed and you pick that? Wild... Do it again.

[targaryencore]

let’s play a love game

jacaerys velaryon x stark! reader.

slightly nsfw but it’s not that bad, everyone knows starks do it better ;). rated: 16+ 🖤 ill do a sfw ones if you guys would want it

jacaerys knew you were going to be a problem when he first saw you. you were beautiful and he knew that you knew you were beautiful because you had so much confidence in front of him and in front of others. you weren’t like the other ladies from kings landing or dragon stone, your dresses were cut a little shorter and you enhanced your chest. he swore you’d intentionally bow low so that he’d catch a glimpse of your breasts but alas you were lord starks baby sister. he wouldn’t dare say or imply anything, he really needed this alliance for his mother. he would soon learn why everybody in winterfell including your brother cregan called you a “she-wolf”.

jacaerys would eye you when he and cregan trained. you’d clap and laugh when cregan would disarm him, you liked to tease. after he and your brother finished training, he had to go check on his dragon vermax. vermax was down in the crypts, this was your chance to suduce him. batting your eyelashes and pouting you asked if you could go with him to see the dragon, he agreed because how could he deny you when you looked at him like that? you were so irresistible.

cregan gave him an odd look and jace gulped. “as long as it’s ok with lord stark” he’d smile so innocently even though he knew why you really wanted to go down into the crypts with him. “it’s just prince jacaerys, he won’t ravish me.” you rolled your eyes crossing your arms. “fine.” cregan nodded approvingly so you smiled and walked over to jace to link arms with him. “we should make haste vermax must miss you, my prince.” you said to hurry him up.

“yes you might be right.” in that moment he didn’t give a single fuck about vermax. screw what little honor he still had, he wanted you and he had to have you. you and jacaerys made your way into the crypts. “i must admit- prince jacaerys…. you’ve been the object of my affections” you unbuttoned your fur cloak he began laughing nervously. “lady y/n-“ you cut him off with a kiss and to no surprise he kissed you back, it was like fireworks went off in his head because he began being a little bit bolder. he kissed your neck and then your lips again, your tongues began to fight for dominance. you slithered your hand down to his lower region, you began to rub him through his trousers and he huffed and moaned.

“y/n- we shouldn’t.” god he wanted to take you right there in front of the tombs of your dead ancestors. jacaerys suddenly felt a pang of guilt so he pushed your hand off of his member. “you don’t want to play with me?…. fine. farewell prince jace.” she laughed and left the crypts leaving him alone with a big problem. “fuck” he ran his fingers through his hair.

some days later cregan hosted a feast in jacaerys honor, it was also to help you find a suitor. cregan had to get you married off before you got yourself into more childish trouble. he told you that you’d sit next to lord blackwood of house blackwood, you wore a black dress with long sleeves with brown fur around the bottom of the dress. “lord blackwood is a honorable man, the match is perfect.” he’d tell you. cregan was infuriating you because you didn’t wanted to get married, you wanted to play around with more hearts. when the feast started everything was going great. lord blackwood was charming and respectful as expected from a lord of his stature.

jace kept eyeing you and lord blackwood, you haven’t spoken to him in days. you wanted to push his buttons a little so you chose an even lower neckline dress. you pretended to be interested in lord blackwood, you laughed at his stupid jokes and you would rub his arm and playfully nudge him. that made jacaerys angry, seeing you with that lord who was old enough to be his father. “lord blackwood you should come play with me” you said loud enough for jace to hear and that was enough to set the prince off. he stared at you and then at cregan and then he stood up raising his cup toward you. “a toast to y/n stark, the she-wolf of winterfell and the future queen of the seven kingdoms” lord blackwoods jaw dropped and your eyes widened in shock.

“i now ask lord stark for his sisters hand, what do you say friend?” jace smiled and you looked to cregan and shook your head no. “oh bloody hell. of course my dear friend! to my baby sister and prince jace.” cregan shoot up and toasted to you two. “y/n won’t have time to play, lord blackwood. we will be very busy.” he titled his head and laughed. “of course my prince. congratulations lady stark.” lord blackwood sighed and smiled at you and the young prince.

[targaryencore]

“haven’t i given enough?”

jacaerys × targ! reader.

inspired by: static- steve lacy, cults - gilded lily’s

warnings : jace is a cold husband, dull sexual experience, non canon events obviously, targcest, hinted cheating??, i aged up luke (16) and jace (20) and reader is (18)

it has been four moons since you and had gotten married by command of your father, king viserys. the marriage was bleak but it kept the family at bay.

alicent and your sister rhaenyra were now spending time together and even embracing, even lucerys and aemond managed to make up, so it seems everyone was getting along well and being happy besides you and your husband the prince and heir jacaerys.

your mother and sister would both bombarde you with questions and advice, they both just wanted you to get pregnant as soon as possible. of course.

“father isn’t getting better. don’t you want him to see you with child? an heir to the iron throne” rhaenyra stroked your cheek, you wanted to tell her that you’d rather die than have jace’s children but you couldn’t say that. “yes sister. we are trying”

“we needn’t worry, they’ll have a child soon.” your mother alicent would reassure rhaenyra. you’d just nod in agreement and smile, behind that smile was a woman crying for the life she once had lived.

you were dressed in a light pink nightgown and your hair was in a loose braid, you were happily reading by the fireplace with prince lucerys, he was a comfort to you. unlike his elder he was kind and gentle, you and luke had a special friendship, one like no other. “so i have heard that you and rhaena will be wed soon?” you smiled. “yes.” the young prince just sighed and lightly frowned. he wasn’t in love with her like he had originally thought, and you knew that.

“promise you will treat her kindly and try to love her? she deserves that.” you reached for his hand and he nodded in response. “i promise! but i also promise that i will not neglect our friendship.” he looked at you with his big brown eyes. “maybe we should go for a late ride?” you suggested.

before luke could agree, a guard came in ruining the moment you shared with lucerys. “pardon me your grace, the prince jacerys has requested your presence.” the guard said bluntly. you knew exactly why he wanted to see you. “yes. of course he has” lucerys whispered to you while rolling his eyes.

“i shall see you in the morrow” you got up from your chair and bowed to luke but before you could leave he grabbed your hand. “he can’t just summon you when he pleases and treat you like some whore.” lucerys was fuming with anger, you tried to stop the tears from falling. “I know. it’s ok my little dragon.” you tried to calm his anger by stroking his cheek.

you kissed his forehead and began walking towards the door with the guard. you hated when he’d summon you especially on nights where you were happily spending time with luke. you breathed in and out, to prepare for what was about to happen.

usually after jace was done he’d kiss your cheek and pat your head. as if he was implying you did a good job, a good job of lying down and just patiently waiting until he finished inside of you.

you arrived at jace’s bed chambers. “my prince, your wife is here.” the guard cleared his throat. “leave us” was all he said and the guard complied and shut the door. you walked over to him and bowed and he did the same. “did i interrupt anything wife?” he asked while he drank his wine. “no, my prince.” you gave a faint smile and he just nodded. “good. good.”

he set down his cup and he let out a sigh. “ill just lay on the bed? if that’s how you will have me tonight?” you softly smiled and he nodded. “sure” he smiled

jace never intentionally wanted to hurt you but he did. you once adored him. you thought you’d learn to love him in time until, one night while he was drunk he crawled on top of you and whispered in your ear “sara” and that broke your heart, he had a habit of saying her name while he slept with you, sara snow was cregan starks bastard sister, he grew close to them both in this time in winterfell, some moons ago.

you laid back and just waited for him, jace removed his shirt and undergarments and crawled on the bed. “do you want me to hold your hand while i-?” you just wanted it to be over with. “if it pleases you.”

you two never really did any foreplay or anything else intimate for that matter, he’d just put it inside you until he was done. he was on top of you and positioned himself at your entrance, he thrusted in and out and you could hear him try to contain his moans, he just grunted. you closed your eyes.

it seemed like an eternity, after he finished, he just plopped down and dozed off. you composed yourself and walked back to your chambers, you hoped luke was still there.

here’s something to hold you over until the series i have planned comes out, the one with jace and aemond that I posted abt previously 💖

[lir-eerie]

How do you think Aegon/Aemond/Daemon/Jace would react to wife!reader having horrible period cramps? What will they do to help her? Or would they just call the masters?

Aegon would call the Maesters to help you. He is completely out of his element when it comes to periods. He'll cuddle you if you need, and bring you things if you ask but otherwise he's lost.

*

Aemond is very knowledgeable on the subject. He will do anything he can to help you, he knows a few herbal remedies to help with the pain. He's always reminding you to drink lots of water while your bleeding.

*

Daemon knows how bad periods can hurt, he's been around enough women in his life to know how to help with them. He still calls the maesters just in case they know something he doesn't. Will do what he can to help you.

*

Jace has no clue how to help. He would ask the Maester a million questions, even taking notes just so he can help you himself next time.

[faces-ofvenus]

Ok but perv!Jace? He looks so innocent but he's a perv

• I can see him staring at your breasts with no shame

• touching them and acting like it was an accident

• hugging you so he can feel you against his body

• offering you to sit at his lap when he reads something to you

• and once "accidentally" he saw you when you were taking a shower

Please, add more headcanons or something. i'm begging you

Warnings: content for ages 18+, as it contains some dirty descriptions.

Oh yes, our home is certainly a gentleman, and he will treat you like a lady, but who are we kidding too, underneath all the obedience, the sense of duty and responsibilities, to a perverted and insatiable man, and the last thing he really is, is innocent, not when it comes to you, and the wretched thoughts that just beg him to take his teasing and spoil you right there.

And yes Jace would be the breast-crazy type, seriously imagining how they would look under your clothes, he just can't concentrate, if you're not the type who has a lot of breasts, no that doesn't stop his imagination, it just reminds him of how perfectly they fit in his mouth, and how he took them as his own all night, how they were sore and hard for him, and how you were so sensitive at that point, size with him doesn't interfere but how your tongue can take them at that moment, that said, it is a little inappropriate when you catch him secretly looking at you, with his expressive brown eyes.

He honestly sometimes can't resist the feeling of touching you, like when his hands accidentally at dinner slip down your thigh, it's embarrassing when someone else catches them, like Lucerys or your mother, but it was a complementary accident, him checking your face for a mark, and squeezing maybe a little too hard on your jaw and neck, looking you right in the eye, but he would stop quickly, when you are just at a festivity, and his hands on your waist slide down, with such a strong and dominant grip but he is not "aware of it" not when he doesn't even seem to "notice" and his eyes are focused on the guests.

The hugs are the best, in public they seemed like just innocent hugs, maybe because of the vast amount of time you spend apart, but you know very well that it's not, that it's just a way for him to tell you how much he wants you, like when his tight hugs are pulling your bodies very close to each other, where you just want to take away those pieces of cloth that prevent you from touching, When his mouth goes from your lips or cheeks, discreetly to your neck, and ear, his hugs are as innocent as the fact that his groin rubs against your thigh half shamelessly, he also loves to hug you from behind, maybe it's totally self explanatory, a request for you to leave and go private almost immediately.

This is the favorite of the two of you, because it is the most discreet and honestly the favorite of the two of you, he usually proposes this innocently wanting to just enjoy your time together, while he stays at his studies and you listen to his soft voice, while you pass the pages to him and your hands are properly settled around his waist, but it doesn't last as long as you think, not that you complain when you end up moving a little too much, Jacaerys can't deny in the beginning he felt the shame of you seeing him in that situation, but when you looked at him with lust in equal measure, it was a teasing game and he knew it, he would bring you closer, where you could feel him better, and you or he would make involuntary movements, but that always let out a sigh, and Jace had to control you when someone walked by but it was so hard with his mind flocked with lust where his only attention, was focused on the middle of your legs, and your ass beautifully sitting on him.

Accidents happen don't they, he was very worried that you were taking too long to go to dinner, even though you had warned him a few hours earlier that you would be taking a shower because of the walk he gave you with Vermax, a walk that his eyes never left your body, you looked so beautiful, and he felt so uncomfortable that he couldn't see all of you, and you were practically married (not exactly, he forgot that you weren't getting married until next month) he appreciated that you didn't like uncomfortable hands touching you, except for his own of course, so you would always take baths alone, just as he had the pleasure of joining in, but Jacaerys is still a gentleman I must say, one of the most perverted, for seeing how beautiful your body looked, watching you take off your robes in his house colors, simply made him hard, and with the most diverse thoughts, he just wanted to be in there with you, He wanted you to be the one to undress him and let him bathe your body, just as soap and water pass through your skin, your groin ached, your head flew with the most diverse thoughts and your eyes never left your body, when you noticed him you weren't too surprised, it was normal between the two of you.

- I've come to see what took you so long, my lady.

He said it so politely, as if you obviously hadn't warned him, and at that moment when your eyes met, you leaned in the bathtub naked looking at Jacaerys in the middle of the door thinking that he just wanted to join you, even knowing the scandal that would follow you if the scene was discovered, which wouldn't be hard anyway, you saw two options, and your eyes and bodies had already made up their minds.

[house-strong]

— THE HARVEST MOON ʾ ⋆

summary ; requested by anon.

“Masquerade ball with Jace?”

pairing ; jacaerys velaryon x reader

notes ; i remembered while watching got that highgarden hosts masquerade balls during the harvest moon and i had to write this,, :p

having the privilege to witness the autumn equinox befall over westeros was a wondrous spectacle that many lords and lady’s flocked to highgarden for. the reach, one of the realms prime food administrator, never failed to have a ball in honor of the event.

somehow at the castle of highgarden, the atmosphere was otherworldly. crickets sang melodies, fireflies danced in the air, and dragonfly’s raced across the manmade ponds within the open infrastructure of the castle. arrays of flowers, shrubbery, and bushes lined fences and decorated the empty spaces between each room. vines and flower-bound, wood lattices laid in open windows to offer some privacy. with fountains that provided decor and warm lanterns that lit pathways, highgarden was truly magnificent at night.

the sound of joyous music reaches your ears as you survey the grounds behind your eye mask. the lord and lady’s of the event are dressed extravagantly; long, flowy ball gowns adorn the body’s of the women, and the men wear fancy dressage under long coats. they all wear exotic masks; some embellished with jewelry or lace, others colored and lined with feathers. some line half the face and others line the eyes.

the harvest moon ball was the event of the year.

you bid your father a farewell, unlinking your arm from his and begin to wander the grounds by yourself. you offer a smile to any lord or lady that meets your eye, dipping your head in respect. you reach a table that houses platters of desserts, custards and cakes lining each plate. you cast a glance around you and peel a candied lemon off a lemon cake, plopping it into your mouth before moving down the table like nothing happened.

“i saw that.”

your blood runs cold and you feel yourself still at the words that come from behind. you swallow thickly, licking your lips to rid any glaze that may give you away. you turn around and are greeted by a man, not too much taller than you, wearing very fine leather. there was a difference in the sheen and material of fine and very fine, and he looked deliciously opulent.

who he was, you wondered. it couldn’t be too hard to figure out by the colors of his clothes. often, guests of the harvest ball wore faint fragmentations of their traditional house colors—even though it was a masquerade party and your identity was supposed to be a secret. his clothes were dark in color with black, blue, and red detailing. a piece of emblem catches your eye; a three headed dragon.

this was a prince.

“saw what?” you respond back casually, eyes slowly trailing back up to meet his gaze. he blinks receptively at you, almost ignoring the fact that you were practically ogling him.

“what you did there.” he motions with his head towards the table. you follow his eyesight to where the victimized lemon cake sat, its sides drooping with sadness at the absence of the lemon slice.

you straighten your back and raise your brows. despite the mask covering your face, it’s instinctive rather than forced.

“i don’t have the faintest clue what you’re alluding to.”

he tuts gently and sags his shoulders. soon, he removes the glove from his hand before doing exactly what you did before. he snags a lemon slice off the cake and dangles it over his mouth before letting it rest upon his tongue. he chews thoughtfully before swallowing, returning to meet your gaze. you swallow, tongue licking your own lips.

“did anyone tell you it’s rude to accuse a lady of something she didn’t do?” you ask, finger trailing along the edge of the table. you cast him a look, but his eyes are still on you, unwavering and interested.

“i didn’t know i was talking to a lady,” the prince quips, moving around you to cut you off by the table. he picks at candied berries and chews on them politely. “forgive me, i don’t see one in front of me.”

your mouth parts in surprise from the jest and you raise your hand, rapidly forgetting your place, before swatting his shoulder gently. you’ve heard stories about striking royalty; the hand someone used would fall off with agony. you look at your hand and it remains intact. you, however, were more surprised that he let you hit him.

“is that any way for a prince to be speaking to a lady of his court?” the prince before you stills, then he tries to come up with an excuse or any reason as to why he wasn’t a prince. perhaps he came here unaccompanied? maybe he wasn’t supposed to be here? “don’t worry, my prince, your secret is safe with me.”

besides the festival music that danced through the halls, there’s a silence that washes between you and the prince. he clears his throat, presumably to ask you how you figured it out. you’re quick to interrupt him and grab his hand.

“come dance with me.”

you think he utters words of protest, but you don’t care to stop or even understand what he’s actually saying. you tug him along instead, the sound of music slowly becoming more loud with each step. soon, with the mysterious prince in tow, you arrive at the marquee, weaving through the couples before finding an empty spot.

you turn and readjust your grip on his hand, your other free arm snaking around his neck. he places his free hand on your waist, his dark pupils observing your face. he tentatively follows your lead, glancing down every once in awhile to ensure that he doesn’t step on your feet.

you two dance in perfect rhythm and you’re almost in awe at how good of a dancer he is.

“how did you know i was a prince?” his voice cuts your thoughts in half, bringing you back to the present. although it’s loud enough to hear over the music, it’s still hushed to where only you would hear – letting others know he was royalty probably wouldn’t be the best.

you hum along to the beat, observing his outfit once more, “you’re wearing a targaryen pin, i assumed you were royalty from that.”

“what if i’m just a bannerman, or devoted to them?” he responds back, his tone laced as if it’s a matter-of-fact.

you tilt your head, “the leather you wear is a telltale.” the masked prince hums knowingly, releasing his hold on you and twirling you slowly. you oblige, letting the music guide your steps. “it’s too fine for an average lord to wear.”

the prince feels himself scrunch his nose in response. perhaps you were right and he shouldn’t have worn his nicest clothes. his mother always told him to be the best dressed at a function, though he supposed she didn’t mean ones that called for mystery identities. he begins to chew on his cheek.

“i’m jacaerys.” the eldest son of princess rhaenyra targaryen, how delightful.

you stifle a laugh, “the whole idea of a masquerade party is to conceal who you are.”

jacaerys is almost disappointed when you didn’t share your own name with him; he assumed he was being too hopeful about the notion. he wanted to know who you were and find out why he felt so drawn to your presence.

“what if i want to know who you are?”

you crinkle your nose. you didn’t feel extraordinary, so you were unsure as to why the prince wanted to know your name.

“you can’t, that defeats the purpose of this celebration,” you insist, dropping his hands from yours. your movements still and so does his, and now you two are staring each other down, almost defiant.

jacaerys feels annoyance brew, but he knows it shouldn’t be his place to be senseless this way. his nostrils flare and he gives a defiant exhale through his nose.

after a second, “what can i call you then?”

that’s the exact moment when it starts to feel like a game. you flash him a pretty smile, one that seems to smash through the barricade of tension between you. jacaerys almost swoons at the action.

“nothing.” you move past him, swerving through the crowd to get away from him. his mouth opens in surprise and he attempts to grab your arm as you move past. you’re too quick, already drowning within the sea of people. he huffs and tries to get through them like you did, but he struggles.

“wait!” unbecoming of the heir to the iron throne, jacaerys pushes through the crowd of people. he earns himself distasteful glares, but he doesn’t care. when he finally exits the mass, he frantically looks around and disappointment clouds his once content feeling as realization dawns upon him.

he can’t seem to find you anywhere.