ｍａｌ 🙊 ⊹ ࣪ ˖

A new song began to play and you watched as attendees took to the dancefloor and positioned themselves to dance a waltz. All the ladies of the court had deigned to wear their most extravagant dresses tonight at the behest of the Princess Rhaenyra, whose nameday was presently being celebrated. Of course, your father was not in attendance and had forbidden you and other members of the Rosby house to do so. Such decadence was childish and frivolous in the mind of a man like him, yet you had found yourself drawn to it anyway.

You told yourself it was simply the sights of the evening that had allured you to steal your sister’s silver dress, the one which she had worn to her own wedding last year. It was the enticement of the wonderful music and dancing that had drawn you to sneak out of your bed this night, your trusted lady’s maid pinning your hair with twinkling silver pins in the dim candlelight. The wonder of the Red Keep being decorated with such lavish cloths, tapestries, and streamers had been what lured you to bribe a stableboy to draw a carriage and take you to the gates of the castle. But in truth, it had been the allure of a certain dark-haired prince that had been behind your decision. 

You scanned the room once again, hoping to finally catch a glimpse of Jacaerys Velaryon. It was a difficult task, as you had not seen him since you were four-and-ten. When your father had sat on the Small Council and your family resided in the Red Keep, you had spent hours upon hours in the company of the young prince. He was quite fascinated by you, as none of the other girls seemed to have an interest in watching the boys train with arms in the yard. But you were always there in the background, preferring to read your books outside in the sun than sit with a Septa in the dusty library. 

Although it took you a while to warm up to him, the two of you eventually became the best of friends who did almost everything together. You took your meals with him, rode your horses through the fields, and even allowed him to tutor you in High Valyrian. He had kissed you once, when you had shown up to his chambers late one night, crying bitter tears after learning of your father’s falling out with the Hand that meant your family would be departing King’s Landing. Surprised by your show of distress, Jace had kissed you fiercely and declared that everything would be alright. That was the last time you saw him.

Five years had passed since that night, yet you dreamt about his kiss every night that followed. You had written to him hundreds of times, but had never once received a reply. After a while, you grew distant from your heartbreak; Jacaerys was a prince and princes had more important things to do than coddle the emotions of a girl like you. Yet, you had selfishly hoped to lay your eyes on him one last time, to remember the boy you loved before you were married to a man you did not know. The Gods seemed to toy with you, as the ball was a perfect opportunity for you to do this, yet the masks donned by every attendee made it nearly impossible. 

Determined, you quickly gulped down your wine and strided toward one of the long tables to dispose of your cup. You made your way through the thick of the crowd, smiling politely at everyone you passed. A couple of men stopped you to ask for a dance, forcing you to feign some excuse about needing to find your brother. You begun to recognize a few sets of eyes, a lady you had tea with the other day hiding behind a mask of pink feathers, a lord who worked with your father concealed by chainmail, even the Prince Daemon who wore red dragon scales on his face. You considered approaching the table where a group of men wearing golden armor were laughing loudly, your foot was squashed by a heavy boot. 

You let out a yelp and turned quickly, wanting to scold whoever had been clumsy enough to cause you such pain. But you found yourself shrinking back when you realized that the man standing behind you was indeed a prince, just not the one you had been looking for. Prince Aegon Targaryen stood with a glass of wine in each hand, brown leathers and furs wrapped around his body and blue war paint smeared on his face. He was a poor imitation of a Dothraki warrior, although he did smell like fermented goat’s milk.

You remembered Aegon from when you were a child. Although servants tried to mind their conversations around young ladies such as yourself, you had overheard many stories about the Prince’s terrible drunkenness, his fondness for fondling maids, and his frequent brothel visits. He was the last person you wished to uncover your identity, especially in the current state of intoxication that he appeared to be in.

“Ah, apologies my lady! Bit crowded in here, isn’t it? "His gaze trailed down to your bosom, which was protruding in a way that it normally did not, courtesy of your sister’s dress being rather too tight for you. “So, what are you supposed to be? Lady….?” 

“Apologies, My Prince, but I really must be going.” You cast your eyes downwards and attempt to side-step Aegon, but he quickly blocks your path with his arm.

“Well that would be quite a shame, as you are the most enticing thing that I have set my eyes upon all evening. You will dance with me, won’t you?” He pawns off one of his wine glasses to a nearby servant and quickly drinks the other one, grabbing at your arm with his now free hand. 

“My Prince, my father is looking for me. He will begin to worry if I do not find him first,” you insist as you attempt to yank your arm away from him. His grip is strong and all you manage to do is scratch at his forearm and stumble over his shoes.

“You will offend me deeply if you refuse a dance, my lady.” Aegon’s tone is playful but the lines etched across his face suggests that his intentions are not.

“No. You are drunk and you smell quite like a horse. Let go of me.” He does not comply, but instead drops his remaining glass to the floor and grabs ahold of your other wrist. The glass shatters and you yelp, both noises drawing eyes to you and the Prince. Your chest feels tight and you glance down at your feet, deciding that giving Aegon a swift kick to the groin may be your only option. 

Right before you deliver the kick, a man in red and black approaches from behind Aegon. He places a hand on his shoulder, gripping it tightly and roughly pulling him away from you. 

“Aegon, have you lost your mind? What are you doing to this young lady?” The new voice catches your attention, rougher and deeper than you remember yet familiar all the same. You look up and are met with the dark eyes of Jacaerys Velaryon, hidden behind a silky black mask. 

“Never you mind Nephew, I am only trying to have a bit of fun.” Aegon pushes Jacaerys off of him, yet releases your wrists as he does so. “Besides, I don’t even know who she is. Could be an expensive whore for all you know.” This causes you to scowl deeply.

“I am not a whore! I simply do not wish to spend my evening with you.” Jace looks at you, trying to discern if he recognizes you from court. He steps forward, creating a blockage between you and Aegon.

“Leave the lady be and return to your cups. Remember what your mother said would happen if you disgrace the family during my mother’s name-day party?” Aegon opens his mouth to speak, but then decides against doing so and instead turns and heads towards the refreshments table. 

“I apologize for his behavior, my lady. He forgets himself when he has too much to drink. Has he hurt you?” Jace turns to face you, allowing you to fully take in his appearance. He is dressed as a pirate, with a dark sash covering the top half of his head and his curls peeking out from underneath. He wears a costume of red and black, with an ornate leather chestplate that displays the sigils of both House Targaryen and Velaryon. His belt is a deep red, and from it hangs a long sword, the same sword you remember him being gifted on his thirteenth name-day. At the time it had been much too big for him, but he has grown considerably. His chest is broad and defined, his arm muscles huge, and his height surpassing yours by at least six inches. 

You catch yourself staring and awkwardly clear your throat, rubbing at your wrists which are now red from Aegon’s harsh grip.

“No, my Prince, I am alright. But I thank you for your intervention nonetheless." You see his face muscles twitch slightly as he raises an eyebrow. 

“You seem to know who I am? I suppose my disguise is not as good as I had hoped it would be.” He smiles softly as he examines you, taking in your silver mask and gown. “Have we met before, my lady?” 

You quickly shake your head. Although you are quite happy to see him, you mustn't let him know who you are. He had made it clear that he did not share your feelings, and you had a hundred unread letters to prove it. 

“I am new to court, my Prince, but I have observed you from afar on occasion. It is lovely to finally make your acquaintance.” You sink into a curtsy and Jacaerys gently takes your hand, kissing it lightly.

“The pleasure is all mine, Lady…?” He searches for your name, and you feel your heart sink at the realization that you cannot give it. 

“I am afraid that must remain a mystery, my Prince. It is a masquerade ball after all, and we have been instructed not to remove our masks until midnight.” You smile coyly as you stand, hoping that this excuse will satiate him. A round of applause hits your ears as the company of performers ends their song and begins to play a new one. It is a lively tune, one that you recognize from your years at the Red Keep. 

“Well, then that means I must keep you close by until midnight. I must admit, I am quite keen to uncover the identity of the lady who was seconds away from kicking my uncle in the groin before I arrived,” he teases. You gasp, caught off guard by his statement.

“How could you possibly have known…”

“That you were going to kick him? My many years of combat training have given me a keen eye for such a thing. Although I must admit, Aegon most definitely would not have seen that coming.” You laugh and Jace watches keenly as you smooth out your dress and stretch out your right foot to imitate a kick. People push past the two of you, hand in hand as they head onto the dancefloor. “Well my mystery lady, I believe now would be the correct time for me to ask you for a dance?” He offers his hand, which is adorned in golden rings. 

“It would be an honor, my prince,” you accept, letting your desires get the better of your senses. He takes your hand in his and guides you forward, paying special mind to avoid the refreshment table nearby.

“Please, my lady, call me Jace.”

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

One dance turns into three, one drink turns into two, and your promise of allowing yourself just once glimpse of Jace turns into an evening spent entirely at his side. He is just as charming and as full of laughter as you remember, yet he is also stern with the other lords who attempt to steal you away for a dance. He is just as intelligent and poised, yet he has grown even more handsome than he was when you were children. He looks at you with adoration as you speak about politics and literature and even court gossip. He dances gracefully and holds your waist gently and tells you stories of his little brothers and cousins. 

Every joyous moment is met with a deep twinge of pain as you remember that this is not real, none of this will last, and that you will shortly be a Lannister bride. Yet every time his deep brown eyes gaze into yours, a  part of you wishes that things could be different.

“Daemon of course did not wish to wear a costume, but my mother insisted that he did. He is supposed to be Caraxes,” Jace tells you as the two of you break away from the dance floor. 

“And why are you not dressed as Vermax?” you tease, not realizing that he has yet to share the name of his dragon with you. Jace signals to one of the nearby servants and reaches for a cup of punch from his tray, which you happily accept. 

“My grandfather has been entertaining Luke with many stories of pirates as of late, and he decided that we absolutely must dress as them for the party. I did not wish to disappoint,” he tells you as he motions towards his costume. “I would introduce you, but I am sure that he and the rest of my brothers have already retired to their chambers for the night. Mother would never let them stay up so late, even if it is her name-day.” The mention of time causes the hair on the back of your neck to prickle; you had forgotten the promise you had made to remove your mask come midnight. You had paid the stableboy well and you were sure he would be waiting outside the keep with your carriage. It was of the utmost importance that you made your exit before the top of the hour, and that you did so without Jace noticing.

Perhaps it was the punch, or the thrill of the music, or your own willful ignorance, but you did not find a way to distract your companion in a way that would allow you to leave. It was minutes away from midnight and you had in fact left the Small Hall, yet you remained in the Red Keep. Jace had led you to a terrace that overlooked the gardens, far away from the rest of the party. 

“Ah! This tune is one of my favorites. Such a sweet melody,” Jace declared as he picked up on the distant music. He took your hand into his once again and placed his other one on your hip, swaying softly to the music.

“This group is rather enchanting. I will dream that the music will be nearly half as good on my wedding day,” you joked. This comment caught Jace’s attention, and he faltered in his movements for just a moment.

“So, you are not married then?” His hand shifted slightly off your waist, his thumb caressing your waist softly.

“I would not have spent my entire evening in your company if I was,” you tell him softly. His eyes seemed to light up, forcing you to rebuttal. “But I will be soon. My father has promised me to Lord Loreon Lannister. The wedding is in less than a fortnight,” you admit to him. Right on beat, Jace lifts your arm and spins you, staring into your eyes all the while.

“And you love this man?” His question catches you off guard and causes you to misstep, stumbling over his feet. He catches you promptly and lifts you, holding you in a way that has positioned your face mere inches from his. 

“No, but I suppose I will. It is my duty to, after all.” His lips are plump and pink, so close to yours yet so far away. He smells like charcoal and pines, a scent that clouds your head and makes your nose tingle. The music has stopped but neither of you have noticed.

“It doesn’t have to be.” His statement is vague, but you know what he implies. You suddenly realize that he is seconds away from kissing you, inching closer and closer. You regain your balance and take a step away, widening the space between you.

“I am sorry my Prince, but I must leave you now.” You feel tears begin to prick at your eyes and a wedge form in your throat. Jace grabs you by the waist, suddenly pulling you back to him. Your breathing is tense and so is his, the air is hot and you can feel the fire beneath his blood radiating from his fingertips. A chorus of voices has suddenly become loud, counting down the seconds before the clock strikes 12. 

“Take off your mask,” he tells you as you shake your head.

“I can’t. I’m sorry but I can’t.” You squirm under his grip but make no real effort to pull away. 

“You can. You must.” Your heart is racing and your pulse beats rapidly beneath your skin. You need to leave now, yet an invisible force has rendered you unable to do so.

“Let me go, please let me go!” You begin to plead with him. “Jace, you have to.”

“I can’t.” He shakes his head before whispering a name, your name. He speaks it into existence softly, contrasting deeply with the shock that it brings. How did he know?

Suddenly, a series of loud booms shake the air, causing your head to whip around in the direction of the noise. A series of shocking colors have exploded across the sky in a display of lights, and you hear cheering coming from the Red Keep. As you are distracted, Jace uses one hand to unlace the ribbon at the back of your head. Your mask falls away, along with any semblance of your original intentions. You turn your head slowly, facing him as he takes off his own mask.

“I knew it. I wasn’t sure at first, but I had a feeling deep in my chest that it had to be you.” He takes both of your hands in his and squeezes them gently. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

You are overwhelmed by it all, and you can feel an onset of tears threatening to overtake you. You force yourself to remain collected; you got yourself into this mess and now you must find a way out of it.

“There was no reason for me to. I simply wanted to see my childhood friend again, just for a moment. You are the one who pursued me all evening, sweeping me up in your charms.” You begin to fiddle with your thumbs, trying hard not to look too upset.

“You’ve had five years to see me, yet you choose tonight of all nights to return. You come to me masked, not the girl I once knew.” His voice is pained and his eyes express a deep sadness, one that is all too familiar to you.

“Because Jace, you made it clear that you wished nothing to do with me. I held it against you for a while, but I grew. I suppose it is my fault for acting on impulse; I should not have come tonight.” He drops your hands. 

“I made it clear? You were the one who would not return my letters! I wrote to you every day, and every day I stood by the window, wishing for a raven to appear.” Confusion is the first emotion that is elicited by this revelation, but it is soon washed away by anger. 

Of course; your father. It should come as no shock that he was intercepting your mail, your sister had once gotten into a heated argument with him after he had burnt a letter to her from one of your aunts. You suddenly feel stupid, for you should have known that he would not have approved of your communication with a member of the House that had scorned him. 

“I wrote letters too, Jace. Every evening for at least a year I sat at my desk writing, and every morning I brought them to the Maester. I did not think to hand them to the raven directly.” Anger flashes across Jace as he realizes what you imply, as he surely remembers your father’s harsh tendencies and angry words that you so often came crying to him about during your youth. He places a hand on your shoulder, adjusting the strap of your dress and rubbing his fingers softly against your neck. He uses his thumb to brush away the tear that has trickled down your cheek.

“It does not matter now, as we are together again,” he assures you. You shake your head as you let out a pained cry.

“But it is too late! I am to be married to another.” Your heart aches at the thought of it, but it is the reality of your situation. Jace clenches his jaw and you notice his breathing quicken.

“No, it is not. I will go to your father on the morrow and ask for your hand. You will never marry a Lannister.” 

“It is not your duty to relieve me of my woes. I would not burden you so.” He steps back, a look of shock and hurt painting his face.

“Burden me? What don’t you understand? I love you! I have loved you ever since I first came across you in the training yard. I remember you were wearing a pink dress and pink ribbons in your hair, yet you did not care that your hems became soaked with mud as we ran through the field. I dream of you every night and I am sorrowful every morning that I wake without you beside me. I love you even more now, as you have returned to me a beautiful woman who outshines all the others. The second I laid eyes on you tonight, I did not notice any other.” 

His confession overwhelms you entirely, and without thinking you lunge forward, grabbing his face in your hands and pressing your lips to his. He leans into it quickly, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you up against him. The kiss is passionate; you are together once again and he refuses to let you go. He tastes like sweet wine and smoke and everything good in the world. The night air is cold against your skin, but you are oh so warm in his arms!

When you finally regain your senses and tilt your head away, he kisses the spot on your cheek that had once been stained by tears. He presses a kiss to the divot where your chin meets your neck before lowering his mouth even further, causing shivers to run down your spine. You once again take a step back, knowing that you will soon falter in your thoughts if he continues kissing you this way. He frowns and attempts to reconnect his mouth to yours, but you block this attempt by placing a hand against his chest.

“You have to stop, Jace. I am relieved to hear you express your feelings so openly, and you have flooded me with emotion. But even if you do wish to marry me, my father will never agree. He still despises King Viserys from relieving him of his position on the Small Council. He has gone to a great effort to arrange my marriage, and he will not allow anything to get in the way of that.” Jace considers your words for a moment, then slowly wraps his fingers around the ones you have sprawled against his chest. 

“What if he didn’t have a say?”

“But he does. He is my father, and I have been preparing for this my entire life. I was instructed to read so as to not shame my husband with stupidity. I memorized all the prayers in case I should marry a pious man. I have guarded my virtue to please my future husband. This is my duty, and even love cannot stand in the way of it.” Jace considers this for a moment, his jaw clenching as he does so. Then, his eyes darken as you watch him stare out into the night.

“Come to my bed tonight. Let me claim you as a man does his wife, so that no other may do so.” 

His suggestion takes you aback. You might have thought that he was jesting, but his expression was so stern. Realizing that he had shocked you, he softened his gaze and gently kissed your fingertips. He looks at you longingly, and suddenly you wish that you were still kissing him.

“If I take your maidenhead, your father will have no choice but to wed you to me. No one else will oppose the match; my mother adores you and the King will be happy to seek another one of his grandchildren married.” 

“But it is the decision of my father…”

“Your father does not decide what is mine. We are meant to be together, you and I. Do you not agree?” You straightened your back, steadied your footing, and nodded your head.

“I do.” He smiles, reaching for your other hand and grasping it firmly.

“And you trust me? You trust that I will make things right, that I will not let any other man have you?” 

“Do you promise that you will marry me come the morning? You will not allow Lord Lannister to take me away from you?” 

This time, he kisses you softly. His lips are just a whisper against yours, but they hold the promise of something real and raw and uniquely yours. He takes your arm in his, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before guiding you down off the terrace and back into the Red Keep.

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

Although your masks have been removed, the previous fear of being discovered has been lifted from your mind. You pass many guards, a few servants, and even a Lord who has his lady pressed up against the wall, kissing her passionately. The sight makes you blush wildly and Jace’s grip on your arm tightens momentarily.

There is not a guard stationed outside of his chambers, which you suppose makes sense as he is now a man grown, and not the boy you once knew. His chambers are different than what you remember, thicker books line the shelves and heavier armor is propped up against stands. He strides over to the desk, pushing aside scrolls and maps to reach for a stack of red candles. He lights them one by one, dispersing them onto the intricate candelabras that line the room. The scent of smoke and salt and a third scent unfamiliar to you swirl around the room in a way that is intoxicating.

You watch him silently, unaware that you have begun to tremble. You are not fully naive as to what happens on a wedding night; you do have an older sister who’s explanation was much more blunt than any ever given to you by a Septa. But this was not your wedding night, although you were in fact wearing a wedding gown. You have wanted Jace for as long as you could remember, yet you had not allowed yourself the vice of imagining that it would be him that you would be wed to for quite some time now.

Once he had finished with the candles, Jace returned to you. He noticed your trembling and placed a gentle hand at the small of your back, cupping the back of your neck with his other. He had removed his silken head covering, freeing his curls fully. His face was sharp and strong, he had grown into the defined features of his House. 

“Do you have any wine?” You ask suddenly. Your stomach flips and your heart beats rapidly, and you wish to soother your symptoms before proceeding. 

“For your thirst or for your nerves?” His gaze remains fixed upon you. You flush, taken aback at the way he has so quickly read your intentions.

“Both,” you admit to him. He nods and reaches for the pitcher at his bedside. The goblet he hands you is filled with water rather than wine, but you drink it nonetheless. 

“You have no reason to be afraid. Not here, not with me,” he tells you, watching intently as you drink. 

“I am not afraid of you, Jace. I am simply nervous, worried about the repercussions of disobeying my father and the reactions of the Lannisters.” His expression is empathetic, but his raised brow entices you to reveal more. “And in truth, I suppose I am a bit uneasy about the consummation.” You finish the water and side-step to return the goblet to its original place, careful not to allow your hems to brush against his bed. Jace reaches for your waist as he pulls you closer to him, in a way that is both gentle and commanding.

“Do not worry about your father. I am the blood of the Dragon, and now you are mine. Nothing will stand in my way. If need be, I will fly to Casterly Rock and challenge any man who dares to oppose my claim.” His words are bold and brave and lift some of the burden from your heart. You had forgotten about the dragon; surely your father would not dare to challenge a dragon rider? 

One of his hands trails lower on your waist as the other gently lifts your chin to meet his gaze. His touch is hot in a way that leaves you burning.

“Do not fret about what is to come. You know what happens in the marital bed?” 

“Yes. I do not fear that pain, but I do worry that I am naive as to how I ought to perform." Jace’s fingers now roam freely between your hips and your waist, rubbing up against the corset hidden beneath layers of fabric.

“I will be gentle with you, my love. I wish to bring you pleasure, not pain.” He lifts your chin further, giving him access to your neck. He presses light kisses up against it, causing heat to pool in your stomach. His fingers release your face and find the laces at your bodice. He pauses, waiting for your reaction. 

You try to think about your duty, your family, and your future. But instead, all you can think about is how wonderful his mouth feels against your skin, and how deeply you have missed him these past five years. You tilt your head forward, answering his question with a deep kiss. Jace leans into your kiss, twisting one hand through your hair as the other begins to fidget with the laces of your bodice. His hands are skillful, working quickly up your back as he pulls the ribbons through the clasps. His tongue slips through your parted lips, caressing the inside of your mouth in a way that makes your heart skip a beat.

Suddenly, he pulls away from the kiss and swiftly turns you, allowing him to quickly finish unlacing your gown. His fingers carefully reach at your sleeves, pulling them down your shoulders and causing your dress to fall off your frame, pooling at your feet. Jace brings his lips back to your neck and his breath warms your skin. His kisses slowly crawl up to your ear as he makes quick work of undoing your corset. Your breath hikes and you let out a gasp, taken aback when he begins to gently nibble at your ear. 

The corset is discarded to the floor, leaving you in just your thin chemise. Jace’s hands start to roam up your thighs, reaching beneath the cloth and pulling it upwards. You turn your neck back away from his mouth and grab for one of his hands in an attempt to redirect him, but he anchors you against him so that your back is pressed against his chest

“Do you wish for me to stop?” His words are a whisper up against your ear. You know that you should stop this escalation, for he was not your husband and had never been intended to be. You were afraid of what would happen tomorrow, but the only thing you cared about in this moment was him. You shake your head, and his right hand once again slips under the fabric of your chemise. The cold metal of his rings against your warm skin makes you shiver as his hand traces closer and closer towards your most intimate area. When his fingers finally brush against your clothed center, you bite down on your lip to stifle the noise threatening to slip from your mouth. He shifts his hips forwards so that you are even closer, and you can feel his hard member pressed up against you. The sword still hanging from his belt swings slightly, its hilt knocking against you and causing you to flinch. Jace notices this, and takes a step back from you.

At first, you whine at the loss of contact, but don’t say anything as you watch him remove his build. His trousers come off next, quickly followed by his chestplate. As he kneels to unlace his boots, he looks up at you. Although his expression is serious, a hint of a smirk dances across his face. Unwilling to simply observe, you reach forward and tug his shirt over his head. His chest is sculpted beautifully, intricate lines that show the definition of every muscle, every scar received in the training yard. Overcome with heat and emotion, you run a hand along his thick bicep as you kiss him once again. Your other hand tangles itself in his hair, tugging lightly at his thick curls. 

Suddenly, Jace grabs at your thighs and lifts you, wrapping your legs around his waist, kissing you all the while. He walks slowly, guiding you backwards until you are inches away from the bed. He detaches his mouth from yours, instead tracing his lips down your neck and across your collarbone. You are sitting on the bed before you even comprehend that he is pulling the chemise up and over your head. Jace is kneeling once again, hands tracing your hips as he kisses the inside of your bent knee. He pauses for a moment, studying you intensely. Your breathing is heavy and your head is spinning as you reach for his hand, wanting to pull him onto the bed so that you may share another kiss. But instead he gently pushes it away, and uses his hands to yank down your final undergarments, pulling them off your legs and discarding them to the floor. 

Expertly, he positions your legs so that they rest on his shoulders and begins to kiss further up your thigh, alternating legs as he goes. For the first time this evening, you truly feel exposed. His eyes burn into yours as his lips finally reach your inner thigh.

“Jace, what are you doing?” As far as you knew, this was not the way that a consummation worked. Involuntarily, your body tenses. Jace nips at your sensitive skin, taking a pause before lifting his head to answer your question.

“Just relax. This will feel good, I promise you.” You open your mouth to continue your questioning, but the words are caught in your throat as you feel him press a kiss to your center.

Your world begins to spin as his tongue begins to trace you slowly, deliberate movements against your most sensitive area that leave you gasping for air. All other thoughts fade away, until the only thing you can comprehend is the feeling of his wet mouth and warm tongue. As his tongue presses down hard against your bundle of nerves, you cover your mouth with your hand in order to stifle your gasping moans. 

This causes Jace to stop his ministrations, pushing himself off the floor slightly to allow him to reach for the hand covering your mouth. 

“Let me hear you. I’ve waited so long for this moment,” he commands, and you obey, wanting nothing more than for him to continue what he was doing just moments ago. He guides your hand instead to his hair, allowing you to grasp at the strands as he lowers his mouth to you. 

The pleasure burns you from the inside out, causing your legs to tremble and your fingers to tug at Jace’s curls. He remains steadfast in his task, his eyes occasionally flickering upwards to watch the way that you squirm for him. He laps at you fervently, and lets out a low groan when you begin to tug his hair harder. His lips begin to suckle on your bundle of nerves, causing you to whine. Jace releases his grip on your right leg and lowers his hand to you, quickly flicking off the golden rings before pushing a finger inside of you, balancing your leg on his shoulder all the while.

The sudden intrusion causes your back to arch, and when he adds a second finger and begins to thrust them in and out of you, you practically scream. You can think of nothing but Jace, his mouth, and his fingers.

A wave of pleasure begins to build deep inside of you, threatening to crash through your entire body. Jace takes note of the way that your legs have begun to shake, the way your moans become breathier, and increases the pressure of his tongue against you. Your walls begin to clench and your vision blurs as the pleasure bursts, coursing through your veins in a way that is akin to the burning of dragonfire. You whine his name repeatedly as he coaxes you through your climax. 

Although you are certain he is aware of your climax, Jace continues pumping his fingers into you and pressing kitten-licks to your center. The feeling becomes too much, and you have to physically push his head away from you in order to get him to stop. A grin is plastered across his face, as well as your wetness. The sight of this makes you flush deeply, and the words he speaks next are almost sinful.

“I would make you peak again, just with my fingers if you so desire. Or I can continue with my mouth?” He caresses your thigh gently with one hand and rubs circles into your hip with his other. You shake your head.

“I want you to take me now.” Your voice is steady, yet dripping with desire. Nothing matters but this moment, and what matters most is what comes next.

“Are you sure? It’s usually best to spend a bit more time preparing, seeing as you are a maiden.” He speaks with the confidence of a Targaryen Prince, rather than the tone of a man simply wanting to be crude.

“I want you to claim me now, my Prince. Please, make me yours. Claim me as a dragon does his bride, and ensure that no one will ever stand between us again.” You beg him. You don’t know what has elicited you to speak this way; perhaps it is the heat that has been simmering in your blood since the moment you kissed him on the terrace. 

Your words have elicited a flame in Jacaerys, who quickly rises to hover above you, kicking his undergarments off and positioning himself on top of you. His cock is larger than you could have imagined, the tip dripping with a silvery substance. He clasps one hand in yours, allowing your fingers to entwine as he lines himself up with your entrance. His forehead is pressed against yours as you feel the pressure of his tip against you.

“I have never wanted anything more than I want you right now. You are mine, body and soul. The Old Gods and the New would not dare to take you away from me, not now that you have finally returned.” His words, sweet yet commanding, tug at your heartstrings. Jace reaches for your other hand and squeezes it softly. “I will try my best to go slow. Squeeze my hands, hard, if I begin to hurt you.”

And suddenly, he is pressing inside of you, agonizing and delicious all at once. You bite your lip, squeeze his hands, and turn your head, wanting to conceal the pain stretching across your face. Jace slows his movements and connects your mouths in a warm kiss. The pain quickly fades from a sharp one to a dull ache. 

He fucks you slowly at first, his thrusts carefully calculated, pulling himself out fully each time before re-entering you. His kisses once again line your neck, and he releases one of your hands in order to rub his fingers against your hardened nipple. The sensation makes you quiver, eliciting Jace to lower his lips as to brush against your other one. 

“Does that feel good?” His cock enters you once again, reaching deeper than you thought possible.

“Please Jace,” you moan, unsure what you are even begging for. “I need more.” The prince runs his fingers down your neck before wrapping them around it ever so lightly. His touch guides you to meet his mouth, and this time it is your tongue that finds its way inside. 

The pace of his thrusts quickens, each one causing you to whine and moan his name. You could not have imagined a feeling so pleasurable, a position more intimate, than him being buried deep inside of you. You try to focus on his eyes, deep and dark and burning with passion as he becomes one with you. 

Without thinking, you begin to press your pelvis forward to grind against him, desperate for more friction. Jace notices this, and lowers one of his hands, tracing firm circles against your most sensitive area. You shiver and tremble and moan his name, leading him to thrust into you even harder. His forehead presses against yours, sweaty hair clinging to skin as he uses his other hand to lift one of your legs.

“You are so beautiful. I will never let you go, and you shall never stand alone.” His eyes pierce into yours, and your legs begin to shake as another wave of intense pleasure builds in your stomach. You force your eyes to remain open as it overtakes you, wanting to bask in the embrace of your lover. As you desperately clench around him, Jace lets out a low moan that sends shivers down your spine. “Fuck. Oh, Gods, you are perfect,” he praises you as he slips his hand back up to your hip, keeping you pinned in place as he fucks you faster. 

You feel as if you might explode; each thrust ignites a spark within you. His breathing becomes ragged as his thrusts become sloppy, desperately chasing his own release. 

“I love you. I have always loved you, and I will never cease loving you,” you manage to choke out, your words both a plea and a promise. This is what pushes him over the edge, his jaw clenches and he mumbles praises into your mouth as he kisses you desperately. He releases with a shudder, his warm seed coating your walls. You feel as if you have finally found your missing piece, finally completed by the man you were destined to be with.

Jace breaths heavily, taking a moment to pause before pulling out of you. His seed begins to leak out of you, coating your thighs and marking you as his. He leaves the bed, but quickly returns after soaking a piece of cloth in the water pitcher that rests on the tableside. Before wiping you clean, he gives himself a minute to examine you, running his fingers across your center in a way that makes you twitch. 

When he re-enters the bed, he pulls a thick blanket over the two of you, creating a space from the rest of the world. Your head feels light but your heart is happy, for there is no place that you would rather be.

“I love you,” He tells you in between kisses. “You are mine now, and I will declare it to everyone on the morrow. Our fates have been intertwined, and I will remain loyal to you in the same way a rider is to his dragon.” 

"My sweet darling boy," you coo to your son as he suckled from your breast, satisfying sounds coming forth as his hunger was satiated. You place a finger on his head, rubbing the tufts of silver blonde hair there.

He looks so much like his father from his hair to his eyes. Part of you wondered if there's a chance he'll inherit your husband's cruelty at some point. Perhaps it had been a blessing that your son was born after Aerion was exiled to Lys following the events at Ashford Medow.

Three weeks following Aerion's departure, and the rest of the family's return to King's Landing, you had begun to feel nauseated in the mornings and during the days when the smell of cooked meat would hit your nose during lunch or supper. You grew tired easily during the day and your moods would turn sour at the strangest of times. You knew it had nothing to do with you missing your husband, as being married to Aerion had brought you nothing but grief...except during the nights when he shared your bed.

Maekar had been the one who suggested you visit the maester, which made sense in hindsight given he had seen these signs six times already. And as the maester confirmed, you were with child...Aerion's child.

At first you didn't know how to feel; on one hand, you knew having children was expected from you, sons especially, but you could never imagine having children with Aerion as you couldn't imagine him being a father...at least not a good one. On the other hand, in light of Aerion's absence, you realized you were no longer dreading the idea of being the mother of his child. It almost felt like a heavy burden had been lifted from your shoulders and you could finally breathe and see things clearly.

Shortly after the announcement of your pregnancy, you left for Summerhall with Maekar and the rest of his children (except for Aemon was studying at the Citadel and Aegon who at this point was out seeing the world as Ser Duncan's squire). While you were going to miss the friends you made at King's Landing, especially Keira of Tyrosh (who was happy for your news even though she and Valarr had no success in that area), you found Summerhall to be more homey and spacious compared to the confines of the Red Keep. The air felt fresher too, which the maester did say fresh air was good for your condition.

It was also the first time you felt at peace in a long time. It was a deep peace you never knew anyone could be capable of feeling. You spent most of your days in the gardens just enjoying the quiet stillness of it all. Daella and Rhae would join you often, keeping you company while you basked in the sunlight. They had interesting conversations of just about everything. You found yourself not having to walk on eggshells around them or their brother Daeron as you had to with Aerion, yet another thing you found yourself relishing in since your husband's exile.

Late at nights, as you advanced further into your pregnancy, you began to feel the baby's kicks. You first impulse would be to wake your husband so he could feel, only to remember he wasn't here. Those times were a little more complicated for you, emotions wise. Aerion was gone and with it, his vanity and cruelty- which you had often been the target of- and you could breathe easy without him here...but at the same time, part of you was wishing he could be here to feel his child kicking within you and hear him refer to your son as the dragon's treasure.

You didn't know why you felt this way. You hated Aerion...but at the same time you were missing him all the same. You may not have missed his cruel words or tendency towards violence, but you did miss the closeness and warmth of his body, especially in the aftermath of bedding. You missed his rough kisses and the way he worked his tongue on you. You missed the marks he left on your body during the act, especially the marks he left on your hips from gripping you tightly whenever he would thrust into you. And strangely enough you missed the way he would fall asleep after spilling his hot seed inside you and collapse right beside you, one arm pulling you close as the fire in his eyes would slowly snuff out as he sleep claimed in.

You missed his physical presence in a way that it would bring an ache between your legs that you needed to seek relief for that ache with your own fingers, which you would pretend were his own or even his tongue working between your legs. The pregnancy had definitely made you sensitive; you knew if Aerion was here, he would take advantage of this state of yours which has made you insatiable. He'd probably spend every waking hour between your legs and never leave until you'd go into labor.

After you had the baby, the moments of missing Aerion were put aside as you now were focused on caring for your son. Though had the option to have a wet nurse, you chose to nurse your son, and while your days and nights were long and strenuous, you didn't regret your decision; some the nobles who were present at Summerhall would look on you with pity when you were able to leave your chambers with your son in tow, under the impression you were raising him alone without the boy's father.

You were not alone, however, you had the servants as well as Aerion's siblings and even his father. Maekar especially adores his grandson, the man took every chance he had to take him from your arms and play the role of grandfather when you needed a break.

A few months in, you realized you enjoyed your life away from Aerion, knowing you didn't need him to raise his son...but there was a part of you deep down that misses him.

In the present, you finished feeding your son. You place a kiss to the top of his head before you pat his back. As much as you enjoyed this paradise you've made for yourself and your family in Summerhall, you knew it couldn't last forever. Aerion won't be in exile forever, he'll have to come back eventually. Part of you hopes it won't be till your son is a man grown, when he won't easily be influenced by his father...but maybe not that long...well maybe Aerion could come visit, take a break from his exile.

You wonder what Aerion is doing right now. What has he been doing while you've been carrying and raising his son? Probably lounging on the softest pillows while wearing the rarest silk and sipping from the finest wine when he is not being sucked off by one of the bed slaves that Lys is renown for. He probably doesn't even miss you. He did say on multiple occasions that he didn't need you for anything other than to further his line and he could find another woman to warm his bed if he needed (and he has).

The thought did leave a bitter taste in your mouth. You don't need Aerion. You don't need a man for anything, not even to raise your child. You'll get along just fine without him.

Child at your hip, you plan to spend the day in the gardens once again to enjoy the fresh air and sunshine followed by tea and snacks with Daella and Rhae.

As you walked down the hall, you hear a voice from the council chambers. It was a voice you recognized and one you have not heard in over a year. You eyes widen in realization. No, you think to yourself in a state of denial, it can't be him. He's in Lys, his exile is not over yet.

But sure enough when you stepped into the chambers you see the man you have not seen in a year and a half. You tighten your grip on your son as Aerion made eye contact with you and approached.

--------------------------

Later that evening you retired to your chambers and dressed into your nightgown before your nursing your son for one last time today.

Since Aerion's return, the rest of the day had felt like a blur. You had expected cruel words or vain declarations from your husband of some kind the moment he saw you...but it never happened. Probably because Aerion was more in awe of the child you held in your arms. He was aware you were expecting and had given birth as you had saw fit to send letters to his lodgings in Lys- as was expected- but even being aware of all this, you still remember the shocked look on his face to see you holding his son.

Perhaps it had to do with the babe being the spitting image of his father...or perhaps it had to do with how much the boy has grown and Aerion didn't think he would've missed out on so much. It certainly was an experience to witness Aerion take up the mantle of father with the way he interacted with your son, especially during supper time when the whole family was present. It certainly was amusing seeing Aerion hold his son with the kind of care that is basically foreign to him.

You flinch when you hear the doors to your chamber open. You turn your head with wide eyes to see Aerion crossing the threshold. He gave you a curious look as if your reaction was unusual, "it's only me, wife, you can rest easy." You let out a huff in response, "do forgive me, husband. In case you forgot, you have been away for some time now, I have gotten used to a certain...peace of being uninterrupted."

Your son had just finished nursing as Aerion approached. You tied the front of your gown and take a cloth to wipe the droplets of milk that dribbled from the corner of your child's mouth. Aerion witnessed the scene with curiosity. You keep your gaze focused on your son, rocking him to sleep.

"May I?" you hear Aerion ask with an uncharacteristic tenderness. You look up to see your husband holding his hands out as if he wanted to hold the babe. You were hesitant at first, but conceded to his request knowing the dragon wouldn't harm his treasure. The boy began to fuss the moment he was taken from his arms. You place a hand on his back as assurance that you were still there, but it didn't stop him from fussing. Aerion stood there awkwardly, not entirely sure what he should do. "You should rock him to sleep," you suggested, demonstrating the motions for Aerion to mimic. The babe continued to fuss but he slowly quieted down and drift to sleep. Aerion smiled softly, rubbing his nose against the top of his son's head, "the dragon's offspring recognizes his father," he stated. "He does look so much like his father," you said in agreement. "I wish I was here when he was born" you husband admits, "I feel as if I missed so much already. I missed him growing inside his mother's womb, his first breaths...his first time nursing from his mother's teat." You feel your face heat up from that statement. "Usually most ladies have a wet nurse tend to their children." "...I wanted to nurse him myself. I...I wanted to have that bond with my son. Especially since his father was absent."

Aerion hummed in response. You go to call one of the maids to take your son to the nursery to rest for the night.

Once your son was gone, you stood there in your chambers, alone with your husband for the first time since his return from exile. You dare not turn to make eye contact with your husband.

You didn't know what to expect if you were being honest. Your relationship with Aerion was...unstable at the very most. While he never went as far as to lay a hand on you, he could be cruel in other ways, especially with his mocking words and harsh tone. It was enough to frighten you and be wary of Aerion whenever you were in his presence. And of course there were the times when he'd disappear to some brothel on the Street of Silk on a whim, leaving you to sleep alone those nights. No doubt he certainly did not remain celibate during his time in Lys. Aerion, as far as you could tell, never really cared about you other than what you could offer as his wife and now the mother of his child.

You did not turn to face Aerion when you spoke, "I...I should get ready for bed." You walk towards the vanity mirror and take a seat to brush out your hair. You keep your head down, but you hear Aerion's footsteps. Part of you assumes he was leaving.

Instead, you feel Aerion's presence behind you. You look up to see him through the mirror, his face unreadable at this time. You set the brush down. "Is there something you need, dear husband?" you ask with a composed tone.

Aerion placed his hands on your shoulders, one hand moving to touch your cheek, thumb tracing circles. "I think you know exactly what I'm still here for, wife," he said, "have you forgotten your duties after all this time?" "I am aware of my duties," you assure through gritted teeth, "I had assumed your needs were already filled back in Lys and thereafter. I'm sure the women on the Street of Silk were more than happy to service you again after being away for so long. They surely must've missed you...or at least missed your coin." "And...did you miss me?" he asked as the other hand moved to the front, fingers began to toy with a strand that kept your gown tied and your chest covered.

Truthfully you did miss him, but for the life of you, you could not figure out why. But you were not about to admit that to Aerion anytime soon, especially if he could use that against you.

"I miss the peace I've felt for the first time since we wed," you tell him, a sense of venom in your tone, "I miss not having to walk on eggshells every waking moment. I miss not having to witness your cruelty."

In that moment, Aerion yanked you to your feet and turned you around, a dangerous look in his eye. You internally panic, wondering if you had crossed a line with him.

He leaned against you, effectively pushing you to sit on the vanity table before placing a rough kiss to your lips. You moaned in pain when he bit your lower lip, his hands wondering your body, earning restrained moans. You shove Aerion back when he pulled away, which Aerion only responded with a smirk. He grabbed your face once again and gave you another rough kiss. This time, you didn't stop him. You feel him reach under your gown, hands gripping the flesh of your thigh as it worked its way to between your legs. He slipped a finger inside you, pumping in and out as his thumb circled your clit, you letting out unrestrained groans this time around.

Aerion pulled back, resulting in you letting out a whine. "You say you don't miss me...but the way your body reacts to my touch says differently." "I hate you," you say through your teeth, "and it's not like you missed me when you had your Lyseni dolls to entertain you." "Is that jealousy I hear?" "Never." "Hmph."

Aerion sat you on the table, lifting the skirts of your gown before diving in between your legs. The moment you felt his tongue making laps against your clit, you let out a gasp which turned into a lustful moan. Aerion's lithe tongue worked wonders on your womanhood as it explored and conquered as if he meant to leave you a babbling mess. It was certainly working, especially when he gripped the flesh of your inner thigh. You place a hand on his hand, grabbing the short strands of hair as if trying to guide his motions.

Eventually you came, eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head as you were overcome by blissful pleasure. Aerion remained in place to lap up the mess of nectar that resulted from your orgasm.

Once licked clean, Aerion stood up, wiping his mouth, "the painted Lyseni dolls never compared to you, my sweet wife. For one, they were boring. Compliant yes, but quite boring. They were trained to give pleasure but never to receive. I knew when they were faking, what I had with them wasn't real. Now you on the other hand..." "Whatever happened to not needing me when any other woman would be sufficient enough to warm your bed?" you said with a sneer.

"I was wrong," Aerion admitted, which took you by surprise, "I found myself missing your company even in place of others. Even more so when I learned of the birth of our son."

Your husband then undid the tie on your gown and pulled the laces to expose your breasts, the cool air hardening your nipples and droplets of milk started to leak from them.

Aerion leaned and licked a one of the droplets, causing you to shiver. "Any other woman could warm my bed," he whispers, "But none of them could give me what you had. A healthy heir...the offspring of the dragon who will continue my line long after I am gone from this world."

Before you could say anything, Aerion took a nipple into his mouth, milk filling his mouth as he began to suckle with a certain urgency. He pulled away before he spoke, "My hunger for you only grew upon learning I was now a father. All I could think afterwards was returning to Westeros and taking you into my bed again and again until I put another little dragon into your belly. I wish to do so again; this time, I will be here to witness it all."

"Aerion...oh, Seven Above," you moan when he moved to suckle on your other breast, milk flowing forth once again.

You shouldn't want this. You should refuse him and send him away. You should be hating him, and you do hate him...but you do miss this. You miss the way he made you feel in the privacy of your chambers when he would visit to perform his marital duties. You won't admit to him that you missed this. You won't admit that you used to pleasure yourself under the sheets when that ache between your legs became too much when you thought of those moment during his exile.

Being lost in the pleasure, you feel Aerion pull away, milk dribbling from one corner of his mouth. He placed a kiss against your lips, allowing you to taste the milk off his lips.

"So, wife...will you have me? Shall I spend my seed inside you once again to give our little dragon a sibling?"

You should refuse him and send him away. You should hate him...but you want him. You miss him. You need him.

Unable to trust your voice, you nodded. Aerion eagerly gathered you into his arms and took you to bed for the first time in a year and a half. Aerion will take his time with you before he eventually finishes inside you over and over again until he is certain his seed will take root a second time around.