Ethera

Not of noble birth and yet very much acknowledged as such through the friendship you shared with the oldest children of Daemon Targaryen, Baela and Rhaena.

Your mother, a maid within the service of house Velaryon, your father a man unknown to you and a bond forged with those two girls so tight they had refused to leave you behind in Driftmark once they moved their home to Dragonstone.

You followed the across the Narrow Sea not as a lady with title and nether as a servant bound to the by duty. You followed as a friend, as someone to confide in when war and battle grew to big for them.

Though you held no claim to dragon or throne, not that you craved either, no one on Dragonstone thought it strange to find you at Baela’s side or with Rhaena’s hand hooked through your arm as the three of you wandered the halls.

Over the years you had become a familiar face within the castle as the cold stone itself, earning warm smiles from guards and servants alike and the occasional teasing remark from Prince Daemon, who insisted his daughters had adopted you long ago. As if he himself hasn’t started seeing you as someone to care for just as he did for his daugters.

The prince consort has never said it aloud, his brash character often off-putting and fear inducing, yet somehow there were little things that contradicted this entirely just like when it came to Baela and Rhaena.

He never asked whether you had eaten, yet somehow an extra place was always set whenever he knew you would return late with his daughters.

If training in the yard left bruises blooming across your arms, a jar of salve would mysteriously find its way to your chambers before nightfall without a servant ever admitting who had sent it.

When the sea winds bit too sharply atop Dragonstone's cliffs, Daemon would grumble at the three of you to "either come inside or freeze together," pretending his irritation had nothing to do with concern.

It was never spoken of, but everyone in the castle understood that any slight against you would be treated as a slight against House Targaryen itself. And for a girl born with neither silver hair nor noble name that was more you should ever be allowed to ask for.

Even the youngest princes, sweet and blissfully innocent, had taken to you like a moth to a flame. Joffery, Aegon and Viserys each demanding to be played with and told a story before bed whenever they had the chance to do so.

Lucerys, grown as he was and seeking the acknowledgement of his mother, still came to you as the young boy he still was. Lingering on the side, pretending he wasn’t as interested in the stories his little brothers greatly exaggerated until you quietly shuffled your skirts around to make space or listen to him talk to you about Arrax and how well he grew.

And then there was Jacaerys, Jace, the only one you willingly called by his nickname and the only one you felt truly comfortable enough to lower your walls of polite respect for the noble family. Then one who as heir to the iron throne should be the one you should be the most distant with and yet there was this unspoken understanding that both of you were allowed to simply be with the other.

IT was in those moments where no judgmental eyes of the court and council where you saw the oldest prince clearly. Not as an heir that was being shaped into the future of the 7 kingdoms, but as a boy that laughed at the silliest of jokes.

When duty weighed heavy on his shoulders, he’d come to you. Sometimes in the dark of night when nobody saw him walk to your chambers, sometimes when you were hiding out in the fields far above the sea. Until he was able to breath again.

In return, you never asked about what it was that had him feeling so frayed, simply listening, offering an ear that was not meant to tear down every thought the prince voiced out in front of the council.

And though neither of you were aware, both of you instinctually looked for the other first in a crowded room.

Jacaerys didn’t have time to himself very often. Not with the prying eyes of the court tracking every movement of his and his mother not allowing him to fight on dragon back as she did Baela or Rhaenys.

It frustrated him, making him feel useless and like a boy being scolded more then a prince wanting to fight for his queens claim to the throne.

Frowning, he left his mother and the lords behind once it was clear that he was no longer needed. Baela walked out just a little before he had, most likely already on her way to the dragonpit to mount Moondancer and Rhaena had left for Driftmark the day before. That only left Luke or you, and honestly, he’d rather go make his search for you then suffer of his brothers brooding.

His feet carried him through winding corridors almost without thought, guided by habit until he reached the sun-warmed terrace overlooking the sea from where he found you exactly as he’d hoped. Seated upon the ancient stone wall with your skirts carelessly bundled up so you could properly climb the stone without getting caught in the fabric of them.

As unbecoming as it was for a lady and as much as Jacaerys knew your own mother would scold you, he didn’t mind your little show of skin in the slightest. Gentleman as he was he of course didn’t look, but he really also didn’t care as long as you felt comfortable.

Yu looked up at the sound of his approaching footsteps, and before a single word was spoken, the tightness in his chest eased ever so slightly at the immediate smile spreading over your face.

“Now why do’s our noble prince look like someone has spat into his dinner?” you grinned, causing a quite laugh to leave his lips.

Leaning his forearms on the worn stone beside you the prince let his eyes trail over your face, the carefree teasing causing his heart to flutter as though he was flying with Vermax through the skies. “I’d prefer that to being stuck here and having to watch my cousin fly out.”

You hummed softly, turning your gaze back toward the endless stretch of dark water below. “Then perhaps Her Grace keeps you here because she knows Dragonstone would lose two dragons if you flew off after them the moment her back was turned.”

Jacaerys let out a long sigh, though the corner of his mouth betrayed him as it twitched upward. “You always have a way of making me sound unreasonable.”

“I don’t make you sound anything, Jace,” you replied with a playful nudge of your shoulder against his. “You usually manage that all by yourself.”

“Is that how you want to talk to your future king, my lady?”

You tilt your head at him unbothered, the wind tugging at your dress. “If my future king keeps sulking like a kicked hatchling, then yes, I think ixll risk it.” You say, eyes glinting with mischief.

Jacaerys lets out a short, incredulous breath though it breaks halfway into something softer as he shakes his head at you.

“I am not sulking,” he mutters, but the way he drops down beside you fully, shoulder pressing lightly against yours, tells a very different tale.

After a moment of silence, he adds quieter, almost reluctant, “I just… hate being left behind.”

Feeling bad for the prince you let your hand rest on his, squeezing gently to comfort you refused to look at him, wanting to prevent a scandal caused by an innocent touch.

“You know why she does it, and you know why the small council says it too. Jace, you aren’t just the son of your mother, you are heir to the throne! They are trying to keep you alive and not lose you to a reckless act of pride that might cost us your live,” you explained, understanding where the hesitancy to let him act came from more then he did. “I wouldn’t want to live knowing I have lost you.”

The last part was quieter in volume but loud in meaning and it had him look at you again. He opened his mouth to reply and got cut of by the load shriek coming from above as Vermax had found his rider sitting outside.

A thought struck the prince.

“Fly with me?”

Your head whipped around quickly, face falling a bit as the request registered within you.

“You are jesting, are you not?”

“Do you not trust me?” he shot back in an instant.

Shaking your head with wide eyes you jumped of your seat on the stones, skirt falling properly as layers on fabric returned to cover you once again.

“It is not a matter of trusting you, but Jacaerys, Vermax is going to eat me before I can even get close enough to touch the saddle!”

Jacaerys knew that Vermax would not harm a single strand of hair on your head as the dragon had taken a liking to you with the years that he rarely did with others.

Yes, his dragon was said to be ill-tempered and yes, more than one dragonkeeper had been on the receiving end of said temper over time but, you? You had been a different story. Always had been ever since you had arrived on dragonstone at two and ten and you had followed Baela right into the dragonpit.

You had stayed back, held your distance as you knew dragons were only really inclined to your riders and that just because Moondancer tolerated through association with her rider, the other bests would not be bothered if they set you on fire out of a mood.

Arrax had been small, not yet as much of a danger at that time, Vermax however had already been the size of a small horse and very capable of doing damage far greater then Luke’s dragon. And yet somehow, the green beast had only clicked and shook his scales , even going as far as to ignore the young boy Jace had still been then to investigate the newcomer.

Jacaery would keep the secret of why his dragon was so tolerating of you until the day he either died, or he somehow managed to convince his mother to betroth him to you.

“He would not. I would not let him harm you, I promise that.”

His voice softened as he stepped closer, the bravado slipping just enough to reveal the certainty beneath it.

You searched his face for any hint of doubt and found none, only quiet unwavering trust in the green beast.

With a reluctant breath, you finally nodded, letting him take your hand as he guided you down from the terrace and toward the distant roar of the dragonpit.

As if he had felt it the dragon came flying, settling low even as he saw you. His prying eyes not leaving you as Vermax watched his rider keep you close.

“Jace I’m not sure if—” you began, fear making your eyes shake and nearly cling to the princes arm the closetr you got.

Jacaerys only smiled, laying a reassuring hand over yours where it gripped his sleeve.

“Look at me, not him,” he murmured, waiting patiently until your frightened gaze left Vermax’s golden eyes to meet his own.

“You trust me when I ask you to listen, do you not?” he asked softly and when you gave the smallest nod, his smile widened. “Then trust that Vermax knows the difference between a stranger and someone his rider…” he hesitated for the briefest heartbeat, “…someone his rider cherishes.”

Vermax let out a low rumble that vibrated through the very stones under you before, to your utter surprise, lowering his enormous head until his snout hovered only a few feet away from you.

You stood frozen and not daring to breathe much as the warm dragon breath almost seemed to caress your face, smelling of smoke, ash and something you didn’t want to know while the great beast merely blinked at you with as much curiosity as you did. The fact that his teeth were mere handwidths away from your face di not seem to settle yet.

“See?” Jacaerys whispered beside you, unable to hide the pride softening his face as he watched his dragon all but demand your attention. “If he wished to frighten you away, we would both know it by now.”

Very reassuring, you thought.

With trembling fingers you slowly reached forward, expecting at any moment for the illusion of safety to shatter, yet Vermax only leaned into the hesitant touch against the warm scales his head, releasing a pleased croon that made the dragonkeepers nearby stop and stare in open disbelief.

Jacaerys smiled brightly because neither you nor anyone else could have known that Vermax had just accepted the girl his rider had long ago given his heart to.

“Not so bad, isn’t it?" He asked, the answer already knowing when you turned to look at him with wonder.

The prince let go off you, climbing up into the saddle fastened to Vermax’s back and held out his hand for you to take.

With shaking fingers you climbed up and settled behind him, feeling Jacaerys breath falter when your arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

The moment Vermax’s wings spread, the entire world seemed to drop away beneath you as the great beast launched into the air with a powerful beat that stole the breath from your lungs.

You clung tighter to Jacaerys instinctively, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing as he guided Vermax smoothly out of the pit and over the black waters of the Narrow Sea.

Wind tore at you, but instead of fear like before there was only… freedom.

Jacaerys turned just slightly in the saddle, his hand finding yours where held on tight, lacing your fingers together without a word as if it had always been the most natural thing in the world.

He listened to your laugh that you couldn’t hold back, relishibg in the moment of closeness and intimacy he knew he had craved for a while now.

It started with mosquitoes, or at least that's how he always told it. Those first months of the semester when nothing had been due, when every professor seemed content to let the syllabus gather dust while the whole lecture hall sat half asleep.

Then, almost overnight, the dam broke. Presentations, projects, quizzes, and group assignments crashed down all at once, like all the professors on campus had conspired over the summer to make October miserable.

Jace came home one evening looking like a man drafted into a war nobody warned him about, dropping his bag on the floor with a groan so loud that Cregan, sprawled across the bed scrolling his phone, glanced up.

"I need a hobby," Jace announced. “Something with my hands. Something that has nothing to do with uni.”

"Pottery," Cregan offered, having gone back to scrolling on his phone.

"I'm not making a bowl, Cregan."

"Knitting, then."

"I will end you where you sit."

In the end it was DJ equipment. A secondhand controller he found online for less than he probably should have paid, studio headphones that cost more than he wanted to admit, and mixing software that took him the better part of a week and several unhinged YouTube tutorials to even partially understand.

It was supposed to be nothing more than a pressure valve. Something to occupy his hands at two in the morning when his brain was too fried for essays but too wired for sleep.

He turned out to be good at it almost immediately, because Jace tended to be good at things he never tried very hard at. Within a couple of weeks he had a small stack of remixes he was quietly proud of. It was Cregan who ruined everything, leaning over his shoulder one night while Jace worked through something moody and bass heavy.

"You should post this."

"Absolutely not."

"Why not? It's good."

"It's good and it's embarrassing. Both things can be true at once."

They filmed the video anyway. They dug up an old masquerade mask from the back of a costume shop, black and gold and faintly sinister, and Jace pulled on the only all black outfit he owned. They posted the clip expecting maybe forty views from people who already knew him.

Instead it hit four million views in two days.

Jace remembered sitting frozen at three in the morning staring at his phone while Cregan practically vibrated beside him reading comment after comment. People loved the mystery of a faceless DJ appearing out of nowhere, and within a week actual clubs were reaching out with actual money for a persona he'd built essentially as a joke to survive midterms.

DJ JXCE was born, and you would never let him live down the name.

"You had four million people watching and that's what you went with," you told him later, the first time he explained the whole saga. "JXCE. Like your name. With an X."

"It felt cool at the time."

"It felt like you ran out of ideas halfway through."

"Also true."

By this time the two of you had been together for over a year, Jace was quietly living two entirely separate lives. By day he was exactly what he'd always been, a stressed business student who complained about his professors and fell asleep on your shoulder mid study session and still aced everything. By night, several times a week, he became someone else, hidden behind a mask, holding a room in the palm of his hand.

Somewhere in between, poor Cregan had accidentally become his assistant, publicist, hype man, and emotional support system all at once.

The problem was that Jace never told you. Not because he didn't trust you, but because he was embarrassed. He told himself every week that the next quiet moment would be the one where he finally brought it up, and every week his nerve failed him right as the moment arrived.

Which was how a string of entirely avoidable misunderstandings began.

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

The first crack showed up on an otherwise lovely Tuesday afternoon. You'd been looking forward to it all week, nothing elaborate, just a walk to the little café near campus for the lattes you both liked. You'd even picked out what to wear the night before, which felt silly for a coffee run, but Jace had a way of making ordinary afternoons feel like something worth dressing for.

You'd barely made it two blocks before his phone buzzed. You watched something shift in his face the second he saw the screen, a flicker of tension so quick you almost convinced yourself you'd imagined it.

"Sorry, one second," he murmured, already stepping away, phone pressed to his ear.

You busied yourself with a shop window, though it was hard not to catch the sharp, hushed edge in his voice.

No, absolutely not. Don’t tell them that, are you insane.

A long pause, then a defeated exhale.

Fine, I'll be there.

He hung up and turned back to you already wincing.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah, just." He rubbed the back of his neck, not quite meeting your eyes. "Urgent thing. I'm so sorry, I have to go handle something."

"Right now?"

"Right now." He kissed your forehead quickly. "I'll make it up to you, promise."

Then he was gone, jogging off toward whatever Cregan needed, and you stood alone, watching his back retreat until he turned the corner and disappeared entirely.

You told yourself it was nothing. A group project crisis, probably. A professor being unreasonable about a deadline. You sat on a bench and drank both lattes yourself, and told yourself the small, hollow feeling in your chest was just disappointment about a canceled coffee date, nothing more complicated than that.

It didn't quite feel like just that. But you didn't have a name for what else it might be yet, so you let it sit, unexamined, and walked home alone.

Three days later it happened again, this time at a study session that had barely started, books spread out between you two and Jace had lasted all of eleven minutes before his phone lit up silently against the wood.

He didn't answer it there. He just stared at the screen for a second too long, jaw tightening, then gathered it up and murmured something about needing air.

Through the glass wall of the study room you watched him pace a tight little circle in the hallway, one hand dragging through his hair, voice too muffled to make out but the tension in his shoulders unmistakable even from a distance. You found yourself watching him more than your notes, trying to read the shape of whatever this was in the way he stood.

When he came back he dropped into his seat like nothing had happened, opening his textbook to a page he clearly wasn't reading.

"Everything okay?" you asked, echoing yourself from days before without meaning to, and hating a little how quickly the question had become a reflex.

"Fine. Just Cregan being dramatic."

"About what?"

"Nothing important." He said it too fast, eyes fixed on the textbook. "Don't worry about it."

You let it go, mostly because you didn't have a reason not to yet, and partly because some quieter, more anxious part of you was already afraid of what asking twice might turn up. You noticed the way his knee bounced under the table for the rest of the session, and the way he checked his phone four more times without ever fully relaxing, and you spent the rest of the evening pretending you hadn't noticed either.

A week after that you'd planned an entire sleepover, face masks and terrible movies and the skincare set you kept at his place because he loved how soft his skin felt afterward. You'd been looking forward to it practically vibrating with joy.

You were in his kitchen making popcorn when his phone lit up on the counter, and you watched him go rigid.

"Who's that?" you asked, half joking, though something in you was already bracing.

"No one."

"No one is calling you?"

He glanced at the screen, something flickering across his face. "It's Cregan." Somehow that answer made things feel worse. "I'll be right back."

You told yourself to let it go again, but a small question about the movie pulled you after him without much thought. You didn't mean to eavesdrop, not really. You told yourself that afterward, over and over, as if the intention mattered more than what you heard.

But his voice carried, low and urgent, from just around the corner.

No, not tonight. Because I'm with her.

Something about the word her made your stomach drop clean through the floor. You stood frozen in the hallway, one hand pressed flat against the wall, feeling suddenly, stupidly exposed, like the floor had shifted under a house you'd thought was solid.

Tell them I'll make it up to them, he continued, then sharper, don't say it like that, I'm not choosing favorites, that's not what this is.

Choosing favourites… not her…them.

You backed away as quietly as you'd come, heart suddenly loud in your ears, throat tight with something you didn't want to name yet. By the time Jace reappeared looking sheepish and distracted, you'd already half convinced yourself you'd misheard, because the alternative was too big to hold standing up.

"Sorry about that," he said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "Where were we?"

"Nowhere," you said, quieter than you meant to. "It's fine."

His smile looked strained at the edges. You noticed it and committed it to memory something you’d started doing with every small thing lately, building a case you didn’t want to have evidence for.

Not ten minutes later he was rubbing the back of his neck again, a habit you'd started to recognize as a warning sign.

"So," he started, and you already knew what was coming. "I actually have to go. I forgot about this project thing."

"Now? It's nine at night."

"I know, terrible timing, I'm sorry."

He kissed your cheek on his way out, quick and slightly off center, more escape than affection. You stood alone in his apartment surrounded by unwatched movies and untouched face masks, feeling something cold settle into your chest, and for the first time let yourself actually think the word you'd been avoiding.

Cheating.

You hated how quickly it came once you let it in. You hated more that once you'd thought it, you couldn't quite stop.

There was no way Jace would cheat on you. And yet the doubt had already found a foothold, small and cold, and it didn't leave when you turned off the lights and lay in his bed alone, staring at the ceiling, waiting for a version of him that didn't come back that night.

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

Against your better judgment, you decided to ask Cregan. In hindsight, this was possibly the worst decision of the entire ordeal, though at the time it felt like the only thread you had left to pull.

You cornered him after a class you shared, and the moment you said Jace's name, his face ran through an entire visible spectrum of panic before settling on something like terror.

"What is he hiding?" you asked, and heard your own voice come out smaller than you meant it to, less like an accusation and more like a plea.

"It's, um. Complicated."

"What does that mean?"

"He's just not ready yet. For certain things."

The phrase landed like a stone in your stomach, and you had to look away for a second to keep your face from doing something you didn't want him to see.

"Not ready for what, Cregan?"

"I've said too much already," he muttered, and then he was gone, leaving you standing in the hallway with your books clutched to your chest, while your thoughts spiraled into every worst version of that sentence you could construct.

You replayed it for days. Not ready yet for certain things. Your mind, unhelpfully, kept building out the story none of it had actually confirmed, filling silence with the worst possible shape, because silence was somehow harder to sit with than even bad news would have been.

Then came the group chat.

Your roommate sent it first, a screenshot of some fan account speculating about DJ JXCE's real identity, alongside a caption that read ok but who IS this man, I need him immediately. You liked the post absentmindedly, half paying attention, laughing along with the group chat without really looking at it.

What you didn't know was that Jace had seen the notification pop up on your shared streaming account an hour later, your name attached to a like on a thirst post about the masked DJ he happened to be. He'd gone quiet and strange for the rest of that evening, and you'd chalked it up to exam stress, never once guessing the real reason, which was that your own boyfriend had briefly, irrationally, felt a flicker of jealousy over a version of himself.

You noticed the quiet, though. It just added one more strange, unexplained thread to the growing tangle between you, one more night you fell asleep further from him than you wanted to be.

The perfume came next. Jace showed up one evening later than he'd said, hair damp as though he'd rushed through a shower, and when you hugged him hello something unfamiliar and floral hit you immediately.

You pulled back fast, eyes narrowing. "Why do you smell like perfume?"

"What? I don't."

"You do. Women's perfume."

"Could be unisex."

"It is not unisex, Jace. My friend wears this exact scent."

He laughed, a strange nervous sound. "Maybe I mixed up one of my mom's bottles by accident."

You stared at him. He stared back, guilt written plainly across his face, he clearly believed he was hiding better than he was. Something in you wanted, badly, to believe the bottle excuse, and hated yourself a little for how easily you almost did, just because believing it was easier than the alternative.

Against every instinct, you let it go. Barely.

That night you lay awake beside him longer than usual, listening to him breathe, running through every version of an explanation that didn't end with him lying to your face. None of them felt convincing anymore. You found yourself doing something you'd never done before, quietly cataloguing his absences like you were building a timeline, and hating that this was who you'd become, someone keeping score in the dark next to the person you loved.

Two nights later, you actually caught him mid lie, or close enough to feel like it.

You'd stopped by his apartment unannounced, a rare thing for you, planning to surprise him with food from the place he liked, telling yourself the gesture might close some of the distance that had opened up without either of you naming it. Cregan answered the door instead, eyes going wide with the particular panic you'd come to associate with him whenever your name came up.

"He's not here," Cregan said, too quickly.

"His car's outside."

"He's, uh. Sleeping. Really deeply. Can't be disturbed."

Behind him, muffled but unmistakable, you heard the low thump of bass through the wall, and Jace's voice, distant and animated, clearly not asleep at all.

"He's sleeping," you repeated flatly.

"Very deeply," Cregan said again, wincing at his own words even as they left his mouth.

You didn't push past him. You didn't demand answers. Some part of you was almost afraid to, afraid of what you might see if you did. You just stood there a moment, food going cold in your hands, feeling something inside you go quiet and hurt because anger at least gave you somewhere to put it.

"Tell him I stopped by," you said, and left before Cregan could stammer out anything else, walking back to your car with your eyes stinging the whole way, furious at yourself for crying over something you didn't even have proof of yet.

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

The final straw arrived three weeks later, at five in the morning, in the dead quiet of your apartment.

You hadn't planned to be awake. You'd simply found yourself sitting upright on the couch in the dark, some instinct telling you he was coming even though he hadn't texted. You sat there with your knees tucked to your chest, watching the door, running through weeks of small evidence like beads on a string, and feeling, underneath all of it, a grief you hadn't let yourself feel yet.

When the lock finally clicked, you didn't move.

The door opened and there he was. Leather jacket, matching pants, heavy boots, a button down shirt half undone. His hair was a wrecked, sweaty mess, something faintly glittering across his collarbone. A backpack hung off one shoulder.

You reached over and switched on the lamp beside the couch.

Jace froze in the doorway as if he'd been shot.

"Oh," he said faintly. "You're up."

You stood slowly, arms crossed, and it took everything in you to keep your voice from shaking. "Who is she?"

His face went blank. "What?"

"The girl. The one you're cheating on me with." Saying it out loud made it real in a way that terrified you, and some small, stubborn part of you had been hoping until that exact second that he'd laugh, that he'd say something that made all of it dissolve.

The backpack slid off his shoulder and hit the floor. "What? I'm not, what are you even talking about?"

"The calls, Jace. The late nights. The perfume. Cregan lying to my face about you. The way you disappear the second your phone rings." Your voice cracked, tears finally spilling over, weeks of held breath breaking loose all at once. "Just tell me the truth. Please. I would rather know than keep doing this to myself."

"There's no truth to tell, I swear, I haven't been-" He stopped, something shifting behind his eyes. "Oh my god. You think I've been cheating on you."

"What else was I supposed to think?" The words tore out of you, raw and scared, weeks of careful composure gone. "I've been lying awake for weeks convincing myself I was being paranoid. Just break up with me if you don't want to be with me anymore. I can handle that. I can't handle not knowing."

"No." He said it immediately, closing the distance between you, his own voice cracking now too. "No, absolutely not, I am not cheating on you. I would never- you have to know that, whatever else this looks like."

"Then explain it!"

He stared at you, chest heaving, then let out a long, strangled groan and dropped to his knees in front of his bag, unzipping it with shaking hands. The contents spilled across the floor. A laptop, tangled cables, headphones, a handful of USB drives.

You stared down at the mess, utterly lost, the fear still humming underneath everything else, not yet ready to let go of it.

"I'm a DJ," he said, looking up at you, and something in his face had gone open and unguarded in a way you rarely saw. "I'm the DJ. The one in the videos, the mask, all of it, that's been me this whole time. Cregan's my manager. It started as a joke during exams and it got completely out of hand, and I never told you because I felt stupid, and then I felt too far in to bring it up without it looking like I'd been hiding something, which I was, which just made it worse."

"Wait." You held up a hand, something clicking together slowly, weeks of fear starting to give way to something dizzier. "The masquerade mask. The one my roommate has screenshotted a hundred times. That's you?"

"...yes."

Something in your chest cracked open with the force of understanding all at once, relief and disbelief and the last of the fear draining out of you so fast it left you a little unsteady. "Oh my god."

"I need you to believe me." He reached for your hands, and you let him take them, feeling how badly his own were shaking. "There is no other girl. There has never been another girl. It has always just been you. I know I gave you every reason to think otherwise, and I hate that, I hate that I did that to you."

And then, because your body apparently needed to release weeks of pent up anxiety through violence, you smacked his arm, hard.

"You absolute idiot." Another smack. "Do you know what the last three weeks have been like for me? You were acting like a criminal for weeks. Sneaking off, whispering on the phone, coming home smelling like perfume-"

"People hug me at events, that's not-"

"Disappearing every time your phone rang like you were hiding a body-"

"I was hiding contracts-"

"Cregan told me you were asleep, Jace, while I could hear you through the wall-"

"That was supposed to be a secret set for a fund, I panicked-"

"I thought you were cheating on me!" The words cracked out of you along with a fresh wave of tears, all the exhaustion of holding that fear alone finally breaking through. "I spent weeks lying to myself so I wouldn't have to ask you directly, because some part of me was scared that if I did, you'd actually say yes."

His expression shattered completely at that, all the frustration draining out of him at once. "Hey." He pulled you into his chest, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head. "Come here, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I never wanted you carrying that alone. I should have seen what all of this looked like from where you were standing."

You cried into his shirt, which still smelled faintly of smoke and stage fog. His hand moved slowly up and down your back, steady and warm.

"I should have told you from the beginning," he said quietly, into your hair. "I was embarrassed, I didn't want you to think I was some try hard idiot playing dress up on weekends. And then the longer I waited the scarier it got, and I let that fear cost you weeks of thinking I might be the kind of person who'd do that to you. I'm never going to forgive myself for that part."

You pulled back far enough to look at him, still sniffling, but something steadier settling in your chest now. "You are cool, Jace. You could be the biggest loser on this entire campus and I would still like you exactly the same. But please, from now on, if something's eating at you, tell me. I'd rather sit with a hard truth next to you than a good guess alone."

Something in his expression softened completely. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." You wiped at your eyes, a watery laugh escaping despite everything. "Also Cregan is the worst secret keeper I have ever met. He basically confessed everything just by looking guilty. Multiple times."

Jace groaned, dropping his forehead against your shoulder. "I'm going to kill him."

"You should thank him. He's the reason I found out at five in the morning instead of five months from now."

"I was going to tell you eventually."

"Sure you were."

"I was!"

You laughed properly this time, and he pulled back just enough to kiss you, soft and lingering, like an apology and a promise both.

"I love you," he murmured against your mouth. "In case that got lost somewhere in all the chaos."

"I love you too. Even though you're apparently a secret celebrity."

"Please don't call me a celebrity, that's so much worse than DJ."

"I'm never letting either of those go."

Later that night, once the tears had dried and the adrenaline had faded, the two of you sat together on your bed, your cheek resting against his shoulder while he opened his laptop and finally showed you everything.

Folders full of tracks. Software he navigated with a confidence you'd seen from him in class. Careful explanations of BPM matching and vocal isolation, delivered with a quiet enthusiasm that made your chest ache fondly.

"This is how I match tempos between songs," he said, pointing at a waveform, "and this separates the vocals so I can layer them differently."

"This is genuinely so cool," you admitted.

"You mean that?"

"I do. Also slightly betrayed you hid an entire secret talent from me for months. But yes. Cool."

He laughed, opening another folder, then went suddenly still, a strange snort escaping him. When you asked what was funny, he silently turned the screen toward you.

A playlist title stared back: Aemond Diss Set Vol. 4.

You burst out laughing loud enough that he had to shush you through his own laughter. "You made four of these?"

"He deserves every single one."

By the time he moved on to transitions and cue points, your eyes had started drooping. Half asleep, you mumbled against his shoulder that he should take you with him next time, to one of his sets.

He went still a moment, then answered softly that he'd like that.

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

He kept his word the following weekend.

You spent an embarrassing amount of time deciding what to wear, texting your roommate three separate outfit photos before settling on something you hoped looked like it belonged in a club instead of a lecture hall. Jace picked you up looking almost unrecognizable already, dressed down in a plain hoodie with the mask and everything else stuffed in a duffel bag, like he was smuggling his other self across state lines.

"You get nervous before these?" you asked in the car, watching his fingers tap an unconscious rhythm against the steering wheel.

"Every time." He glanced at you, a small, crooked smile. "Different kind of nervous than exams, though. Better kind."

The venue was a private club downtown, with a strict guest list and a bouncer who barely looked up from his clipboard until he saw Jace's face, at which point his whole posture changed.

Backstage was a cramped little room behind a black curtain, mirror rimmed in bare bulbs, a rolling rack of clothes that were unmistakably not Jace's usual wardrobe. Cregan met you at the door looking more professional than you had ever seen him, wearing glasses he probably didn't need and clutching an iPad like it was his lifeline.

"Absolutely not what I expected from you," you told him.

"You have no idea," he muttered, already scrolling through something with the sound tech. "Green room's through there. Try not to distract him too much, we go live in forty."

You watched Jace get ready, and it was strange in a way you hadn't braced for, watching your boyfriend disappear piece by piece into someone else. He pulled on black leather pants that fit like a second skin, tucked in a fitted button down he left mostly undone at the collar, and shrugged into the same black leather jacket from that morning a week ago, the one that had made you think the worst. A thin silver chain caught the light against his throat. He rolled up his sleeves to his forearms, and when he ran a hand back through his hair to mess it into something deliberately unkempt, you felt something low and unfamiliar twist in your stomach.

"Stop staring," he said without turning around, catching your reflection in the mirror.

"I'm not staring."

"You're staring."

"You look different," you admitted. "Good different. Just different."

He turned around then, and even without the mask yet there was already something shifted in the way he held himself, shoulders squared, chin lifted, the faint slouch he always carried from hunching over textbooks completely gone. Then he picked up the mask off the counter, black and gold, and slid it into place, and the transformation finished itself right in front of you.

"How do I look?" His voice came out slightly muffled, teasing.

"Like a stranger I'd very much like to talk to," you said honestly, and his low laugh under the mask did something dangerous to your pulse.

Cregan stuck his head through the curtain. "Ten minutes."

The club itself was already heaving by the time you and Cregan made your way through a side door onto the small elevated platform beside the booth, the crowd a dark churning mass beyond the edge of the stage lights. Fog machines pumped thin curling trails across the floor. Lasers sliced green and violet through the haze in sharp geometric bursts, catching on raised hands and sweat slicked shoulders. The bass from the warm-up set was already a physical thing, a pressure you felt behind your sternum before you'd even reached the booth.

Thanks to what Jace jokingly called your girlfriend privileges, you were allowed close enough to feel the metal decking hum beneath your shoes.

Then the warm-up DJ stepped back, the lights dropped to near black, and a low voice over the sound system announced him.

"Ladies and gentlemen. DJ JXCE."

The crowd's reaction hit like a wave, a wall of noise that made the hair on your arms stand up. A single spotlight cut down onto the booth, and there he was, mask gleaming black and gold under the light, both hands raised slowly over his head like he was commanding the room to hold its breath.

He let the silence stretch a beat too long, the whole crowd hanging on it, and then he dropped his hands onto the deck and the first track exploded out of the speakers.

You had never seen Jace move like that. Not once. Not at parties, not dancing badly in his kitchen while cooking, not even the handful of times you'd dragged him out to actual clubs where he mostly stood at the edge nursing a drink and looking faintly uncomfortable.

This was someone else entirely, someone who owned every inch of the small platform he stood on. His whole body moved with the track, not just his hands on the controller but his shoulders, his hips, the roll of his neck as a bassline dropped and the crowd screamed back at him. One hand rode the crossfader while the other pumped a fist into the air, urging the room higher, and they answered him instantly, hundreds of hands shooting up in unison like he'd pulled a string tied to every one of them.

He worked the deck with a fluency you hadn't fully understood even after the laptop tutorial back at his apartment. His fingers moved across the pads in quick bursts, layering in a vocal chop, riding a filter sweep up until the whole room seemed to inhale, and then cutting the bass entirely for one suspended, electric second before slamming it back in. The crowd's collective scream when the drop hit was so loud it rattled through the room.

He prowled the length of the booth as he played, never fully still, boots hitting the platform in time with the kick drum, leather jacket catching the strobing lights every time he turned. At one point he grabbed the mic clipped to the stand beside him and leaned into it, voice low and rough through the mask, telling the crowd to get their hands up, telling them he couldn't hear them, and the roar that answered him was deafening.

He wasn't just playing music at them. He was performing, feeding off them, giving it right back tenfold, and they were eating out of his hand.

Sweat had started to darken the collar of his shirt within the first twenty minutes, dark strands of hair sticking to his forehead beneath the edge of the mask. He didn't seem to notice or care. Every few tracks he'd glance up toward the platform where you stood, and even through the mask, even with a few hundred people between you, you could feel it when he found you, could feel the small private smile hidden behind the black and gold.

Once he pointed straight at you mid transition, just a flash of a gesture before both hands went back to the deck, and the girls nearest the stage turned to see who he'd singled out, and you felt your whole face go hot despite the cool club air.

Around the halfway mark he did something that made Cregan groan audibly beside you. He cued up a fire set, an honest to god fire set, twin jets of flame erupting from either side of the booth timed exactly to the drop of a track you recognized from one of his practice sessions weeks ago, something he'd played you half asleep on his laptop that you'd had no idea was destined for this.

The heat of it washed over the front rows and the crowd went absolutely feral, phones up everywhere, capturing him silhouetted against twin columns of fire, mask glinting, one arm thrown up triumphant while the other kept the mix rolling without missing a single beat.

"He asked for the flame cues without telling me the timing," Cregan muttered, half laughing, half exasperated, watching his own screen. "I nearly had a heart attack."

Somewhere in the transition between two tracks he ripped off his jacket entirely and flung it toward the side of the stage without looking, revealing the shirt beneath sticking damply to his shoulders, sleeves shoved further up his forearms, and the crowd screamed like he'd done something far more significant than take off outerwear.

You found yourself dancing without ever deciding to, swept up in the same current pulling everyone else, laughing at how easily your body had given in.

Near the end of the set, he slowed things down deliberately, easing the tempo into something moodier and heavier, the bass sitting low and sultry under a vocal sample that looped and stretched until the whole club seemed to sway together instead of jump.

By the final track, his hair was completely soaked through, shirt clinging to his back, chest visibly heaving with the effort of an hour spent moving nonstop, and he still hadn't lost an ounce of the manic, magnetic energy that had carried the whole set. He ended it exactly the way he'd started, both arms thrown up as the last beat cut to silence, the crowd's scream filling the space where the music had been, and for one long moment he just stood there under the spotlight, chest rising and falling, letting the sound wash over him.

Then he turned, found you immediately even through the mask, and pointed at you again, more deliberate this time, before Cregan was already pulling him off toward the side exit and a wall of people trying to reach the booth.

Backstage he was still buzzing when you found him, mask pushed up onto his sweat damp hair, cheeks flushed, breathing hard, grinning in a way you'd genuinely never seen on him before, not after exams, not after anything. He looked wrecked and thrilled and completely, unmistakably alive.

"So," he said, pulling you against him despite the state of his shirt. "What'd you think?"

"I think," you said slowly, "that I have never in my life seen you move like that."

"Good different or bad different?"

"Extremely good different." You reached up, pushing the mask fully off his head and setting it aside. "You set the stage on fire, Jace."

"Cregan's idea. Well- my idea, his logistics."

"You pointed at me. In front of four hundred people."

"I wanted them to know." He said it simply, honestly, still catching his breath. "That you're mine. That you were there."

Something in your chest went warm and soft despite the pounding bass still ringing faintly in your ears. "You're ridiculous."

"You don’t seem to be complaining.”

"I’m not." you admitted, and kissed him before he could say anything else, not caring in the slightest that he tasted like sweat.

By the end of the night, buzzed on secondhand champagne and pure adrenaline, the two of you sat together outside the club in the cool night air, his jacket draped over your shoulders now instead of his.

"You're the coolest person I know," you told him honestly.

He laughed, soft and disbelieving. "Yeah?"

"I know so. I watched four hundred strangers lose their minds over you tonight."

He went quiet a moment, some of the performer's swagger fading back into the version of him you knew best, the one who overthought everything at two in the morning. "I should have told you from the start. I'm sorry I let it drag on so long."

"It's okay," you said, and meant it. "Just don't forget who I am once you're some famous masked DJ with sold out shows."

He gasped, mock offended. "I would never forget my sweet girl."

Then he kissed you, slow and warm, right there under the streetlights, and everything that had felt so uncertain weeks earlier finally settled into something solid and unshakably good.

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

BONUS 😉:

It was one of those mandatory gatherings the entire Targaryen-Velaryon family dreaded and somehow never managed to escape, orchestrated by Viserys with the quiet insistence of a man who refused to acknowledge how deeply his family disliked being in the same room together. Jace had asked you to come along specifically so he'd have someone on his side before he got frustrated enough to throw a punch.

The table was, as always, a masterclass in barely restrained mess. Aegon and Lucerys were locked in some tense, whispered argument. Rhaenyra sat with her head in one hand. Alicent was quietly working through her third glass of wine. Viserys sat at the head of the table pretending not to notice any of it. Aemond kept sending long, calculating looks toward Jace.

At least Helaena was pleasant company, cheerfully telling you about her latest bug collection and the chicken coop she'd been building.

Then Joffrey, scrolling on his phone, suddenly snorted loudly enough that everyone turned to look at him.

"Sorry," he said, not sounding sorry at all. "Just saw this DJ posted a new set. Apparently it's another one dissing Uncle Aemond."

Jace choked on his water so violently you had to shove a napkin into his hands before he ruined the tablecloth.

Aemond's expression went ice cold. "And?"

Joffrey squinted at his screen. "The title is, uh." A pause. "Certified One Eye Hater Mix Volume Five."

The table went utterly silent.

Aemond rose slowly from his chair, both hands slamming flat against the table. "I will sue this man."

You buried your face in your hands, shoulders shaking with laughter, while beside you Jace trembled with the effort of holding his own in. Across the table, Rhaenyra shot him a single sharp look promising very real consequences.

Under the table, you found his hand and laced your fingers through his. He squeezed back immediately, glancing at you with amusement dancing behind his eyes.

You looked around at the whole scene, at Aemond threatening legal action against a masked DJ he had no idea was his own nephew, at Rhaenyra silently contemplating homicide.

Life, you thought, biting back your own smile, was pretty great.

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▶︎ • ၊၊||၊|။||||| Front Left Pocket by Jen-Cassie Daisy ၊၊||၊|။||||| • ▶︎

⋆. 𐙚˚࿔ 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐱 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐛 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

‎ꫂ᭪݁ 𝐋𝐨𝐡𝐞𝐧

Idc if I’m getting flamed for this Lohen would NOT be a specialist

Bro is living it up at Cloud Tower learning how to be a witch!

bUt bOyS cAn’T bE wItCh-

DON’T CARE—- plus that’s stupid. They’ll take anyone devious enough, I just know it!

If you are a witch too…..you guys will be total partners in crime!

He’ll sneak into your dorm late at night to bug you (sometimes he just wants to make out)

He’s always interested in what you are studying if you are excited about it! He loves coming up with pranks to pull on the Alfea fairies with you.

He’d enjoy taking you downtown during the weekends, holding your hand proudly while holding an arm full of bags filled with things he bought you.

“How are you getting all of this mone—“

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Lohen…..”

“I thought you said I was more attractive when I was devious…”

“I don’t want you thrown into the detention dimension for stealing.”

“I won’t get sent there! Not for stealing at least….”

Yeah bro has been in that freaking detention dimension a few times. He just yaps to the chalkboard about all of his plans to mix lactate into the specialists’ meals when they come to train at cloud tower.

Or sprinkle pepper on the cupcakes that the fairies always send in hopes the more difficult witches of cloud tower will like them.

He’d enjoy seeing his fellow witches coughing from the unexpected kick in the frosting.

Eventually headmistress Gryffin just has to come drag him out of there by his hair, he was scaring the chalkboard…..

There was one time you got sick from accidentally drinking a witch pouring a random potion into your water bottle.

Lohen was at your beck and call for all of it. He held your hair as you threw up.

He kissed your scorching hot forehead, wishing you a speedy recovery.

You whined about the never ending nausea even though you knew it would only last like 24-48 hours and he gently reassured you everything was going to be okay

bUt kAt, cOuLdN’t tHeY jUsT cUrE mE wItH mAgIc ?

NO! Also lowkey I think they don’t wanna mess with trying to cure whatever food poisoning-like illness the mysterious concoction gave you. They don’t wanna make it worse

The nurse definitely kicked him out of the infirmary room like three times cause he kept sneaking in

Headmistress Gryffin came and saw you at one point to inform you that the student who poured the potion into your drinking cup had been properly disciplined

“How did you know who?”

“The walls of cloud tower hear everything.”

Then you hear a closet door creaking open, Lohen coming through it

“I didn’t actually think that spell would—“ He cut himself off when he saw the headmistress

“What a persistent admirer you have.” She commented, her tone indicated she found it disgustingly sweet

“Just send me to the detention dimension already!” He groaned

“Oh no, you won’t be going there. You’ll be cleaning up trash on the beach with the Alfea fairies for the next three weekends.” She told him

Love you headmistress Griffin, oh the icon you are

NOW, if you’re a fairy…..oh boy.

I’m cooking on post season 2 setting for this, so there’s a good relationship between the three schools, but some students still hold strong beliefs against the witches

Lohen totally spiked your drink with a love potion the first time he met you. It was a dare given to him by one of his classmates

“Hey, look at that fairy over there…you should spike their drink…” One of his classmates egged him on

“No way! I mean…..I just….I can’t get into detention again. Headmaster Gryffin said no more shenanigans at these parties.” He insisted, his voice wavering a bit

Truth be told he was finding an odd enjoyment watching you throughout the night. It was weird…..he didn’t want to disrupt your peace…

“Awww…..looks like you’re going soft. No wonder the Trix didn’t ask you to join them.” The classmate said

Lohen didn’t want to join the Trix anyways. He was more about being mischievous and killing monsters that were going to hurt other people. Sure, he sometimes liked to make other people’s life inconvenient, but he didn’t want power over him.

Either way, not joining the Trix’s fans had really knocked Lohen down a peg in the social hierarchy.

OKAY OKAY, I’ll stop with the Lohen-in-the-winx-universe backstory.

When he spiked your drink, he wasn’t expecting the affects to be that strong.

You were all over him the whole night. Glued to his side, compliments pouring out of your mouth every moment.

He hated to admit he liked you being so close to him. He adored the sound of your praise. But it didn’t sit right with him that it was all artificial.

So, he turned you over to your friends and earned a slap in the face and a kick in his groin.

From that moment on, he tried so hard to make it up to you. He had a friend at Alfea that gave him your number and he would text you CONSTANTLY, begging for your forgiveness

Truly the guilt ate away at him every day.

Imagine your surprise when he shows up at your door, sneezing so loudly you thought someone had casted a charm wrong.

He was holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers

“I really am sorry….” He said, before sneezing again.

You hesitantly accepted the flowers and offered him a tissue.

“Please, let me make it up to you.” He begged

“I think you already have.” You mumbled, giving him a weak glare

“Let me take you out for coffee? Or tea? This weekend?”

And that’s how it all started, you two sitting with the beverages for hours chatting

Okay I’ve yapped enough but but BUT

Think: Season 3 when Valtor left his mark on all the Cloud Tower students, putting them under hypnosis.

You, having just got your enchanted transformation, go with the winx to try and fight Valtor

And end up running into your boyfriend, hellbent on fighting you in his hypnotized state.

Yeah, the moment he awoke from the spell and saw you in your gorgeous new fairy transformation, he knew he was in love.

‎ꫂ᭪݁ 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐚

She’s a student at Alfeyw, and I’m hc-ing her as Stella’s sister

Because technically her parents have power over the sun and the moon

If you are also a fairy at Alfeya, you two would meet in the dining hall with Columbina piling her plate high with sweets

“Want one?” She’d ask, offering you one with a soft smile

You two probably got paired up on a project together and that encouraged conversation. She was more of a listener, but if you got her rambling about the things she likes, she gladly will talk.

Columbina would totally sneak into your dorm room at night, except she’s actually good at it.

You’d be lying in your bed, trying to sleep, and you’d roll over to see her staring at you with a soft smile.

“Shit!” You squealed, before looking around anxiously

“‘Bina, what are you doing here?” You insisted

“I wanted to see you.” She confessed, sitting on the edge of the bed

“Couldn’t wait until the morning?” You laughed, grabbing her hand gently to get her to lay beside you

“If I could have, I wouldn’t be here.” She stated plainly

You two soaked up each other’s presence, cuddling and enjoying the company.

“Do you have any tea?” She’d ask right as you were about to fall asleep.

It’s okay! Once you make the tea she’ll put a small exhausted charm she’s been practicing on you. You are asleep in minutes afterwards

Oooo, ooo, dates with her are so cutie! You two would go strolling downtown, beverages with to-go cups in hand.

If you had a smidgen of beverage on your face, she’d totally be the type to give you a kiss in that spot instead of just telling you to wipe it off

Now, if you’re a witch…..

Jokes on you, becuase Columbina can be mischievous! You pull pranks on her….oh…she’ll get you back.

You decide to replace all her pastries with lemon-coated maggots while at a shared meal between the schools?

Yeah, expect ALL of your school supplies to be NOWHERE you remember putting it for the next month.

At first you thought it was your roommates fucking with you, but then you start finding little moon charms on shit and you KNOW it’s her.

You track down her number and text her, demanding to put all your school stuff back

and lowkey tell you how she was able to do seamlessly sneak into Cloud Tower

She tells you she’d be happy to inform you of the locations if you make up for ruining her sweets

And then you find yourself that weekend sitting in a bakery with a moon fairy while she eats pastries.

“You’re the sister of that sun fairy, right?” You asked, the princess of Solaria’s name slipping your mind

“Her name is Stella.” She informed you

“I’ve heard she’s a total drama queen.” You gossip, taking a bite out of a muffin

Suddenly, the pastry warms in your mouth, becoming scorching hot. You spit it out quickly, patting your tongue quickly with a napkin.

“What was that for?” You exclaim

“Don’t insult my sister. You might as well be insulting me.”

Yeah, you guys had a rocky start, but you two eventually fell into a nice rhythm.

She liked hearing about your classwork at Cloud Tower

She even gave you a small bag of pastries to give to the board in the Detention Dimension

“Moonbeam, I don’t think it can eat.” You told her with a creased brow

“It can, I asked headmistress Gryffin.” She told you

“How did you—“

“The same way you convinced headmistress Faragonda to let me out past curfew to see that movie with you opening night.” She replied with a raised brow

ּ֯ . ❥ ּ֯ ┆꒰ 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐲 .ᐟ ꒱

ּ֯⋆｡♡˚ 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐚

This pony owns an equestria-renowned bakery located in Canterlot!

She loves making all kinds of gourmet pastries and overly decorated cakes

Maybe your cousin was getting married and insisted you come along to the cake tasting.

You didn’t want to go and dragged your hooves about the whole ordeal

Then you showed up and there’s this gorgeous and kind pony that runs the bakery

Yeah you begged your cousin to invite her to their wedding.

You start going in nearly every day, ordering something different so Navia didn’t get suspicious of your true intentions.

“I’ll have a blueberry scone.”

“That’s odd, your cousin mentioned the wedding cake couldn’t have blueberries in it because you were allergic…” She pondered aloud

“Oh…..well…..I’ll have….”

Yeah you’re cooked, she sees right through you.

“Wanna join me in going to the theatre this Friday?” She proposed, knocking you even more off your guard

“Of course, yes!” You cheered

“Now….about your order…” She teased with a smile

Navia loved going to see live theatre. All the school plays and professional musicals, she was into it all.

Of course, you tagged along because you enjoyed the company but also because you liked seeing her happy.

You spent many nights taste testing her new recipes and telling her about all your interests, your life, your job.

It wasn’t until you two were having a sleepover, laying under a pillow fort both of your made, that she told you about her parents and their deaths.

You comforted her under the warm glow of the fairy lights you two had strung in the fort. You ended up falling asleep next to each other.

Navia loves visiting Ponyville! She insists they have the best ice cream.

“C’mon! You have to try the apple pie delight flavor!” She told you

“I don’t know Navia….” You reluctantly said

“Sir, wouldn’t you say the apple pie delight flavor is absolutely scrumptious?” She asked a random pony walking by.

He was an earth pony and had farm attire on. He was pulling a wagon and a hat laid low on his head

“Yup.” He stated before walking off

I should mention, I do think Navia is an earth pony! I have no specific lore reason for this it just feels right.

I mean she does have a geo vision and that’s the earth…..idk feels a lil on the nose lol

Either way, you end up eating ice cream happily together

“I’m really happy you decided to come with your cousin that day.” She said sincerely, looking at you with shining blue eyes

“I’m happy I did too.” You replied

ּ֯⋆｡♡˚ 𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢

Celestia kicked his annoying ass to Ponyville

Celestia decided to encourage her overly excited pegasus apprentice to explore the culture of ponyville to better cultivate his music

If you live in Ponyville, you’ll hear talk of the Princess’s prized musician coming to grace the town and learn about its history and what living there was like.

You found yourself being serenaded as the sun rose, the pegasus musician flying outside your window.

“What in Equestria are you doing?” You insisted, your eyes bleary from sleep

“Awakening you, wonderful stranger, with a sonnet!” He insisted cheerily

“Can the sonnet wait until the sun comes up?”

And like that, Venti was attached at the hip to you. Eagerly asking you every question he could think of.

You swore he was getting more curious than Pinky Pie…..and that was a feat.

“Venti, you cannot have another glass of apple cider.” You told him

You had taken him out for dinner at one of the small restaurants. You didn’t know he was going to down four bottles of the fizzy apple liquid

“It’s just sooooo good…..” He told you while ogling at his empty bottle

“If it’s that good you should write a song about it or something” You snorted

“I couldn’t possibly do that! I’ve got too many songs to finish right now.” He insisted

“Oh? Inspiration struck you?”

“When I met you it certainly did.” He giggled

If you’re a pegasus too, Venti would love to go flying with you!

He’s hold your hoof while soaring the sky

Flying you both through a cloud and moving to kiss you through the water vapor

If you’re an earth pony, don’t worry! He’ll gladly arrange the clouds in a heart for you <3

He’d also love to have you watch him single and fly at the same time, bro loves putting on a performance

If you are a unicorn he is practically begging you to conjure him a refilling bottle of apple cider

“Pleeeeeeease.” He would plead, looking up at you with his gorgeous teal eyes

“The last thing you need is magical apple cider.” You laughed, patting his cheek affectionately

There was one night he had come over to your home for dinner and saw the photos of you and your friends

You told him about each of them and where they were at in their respective lives. Then you asked him about his friends.

He told you about his best friend that died some time ago. He was so serious it made you really realize how even the goofiest of people had hard things to grapple with.

You were constantly surprised at how wise Venti was. While out running errands with you, he was able to defuse so many disputes between ponies by a few words and a charming smile.

He seemed to always know what to say and exactly how to say it. You see why Princess Celestia took him on as an apprentice

‿︵˓ʚ𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐇𝐠𝐡ɞ˓︵‿

˖⋆࿐໋𝐕𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐚

He starts out as a royal, probably the son of some king destined to become someone’s Prince Charming

But Varka didn’t want to save someone, marry them, then rule a kingdom for the rest of his life’s

He wanted adventure! To seize the unknown and gain glory!

He joined the rebels when he came to terms with defying his destiny.

If you are from Wonderland he’d beg you to take him with you

“I’ve heard it’s pretty…wacky down there. Care give me a tour?” He’d ask with a smirk

“Varka, It isn’t wise for me to take you with me…” You told him, knowing Headmaster Grim would have your head if you did

“You can’t even help your dearest friend? Your best bud? Your other pea in the pod? Your-“

“I will if you stop whatever it is you’re saying.”

Varka was very sociable, everyone knew him and pretty much everyone loved him

Not to mention he had MANY admirers.

If you two weren’t dating quite yet, I think he’d probably entertain some of the people.

He’s go on dates with various girls and guys that filled his locker with roses or passed him heart-shapes notes in class.

It was the mid semester when Briar threw a big party, which inevitably turned into playing seven minutes in heaven, as most of her parties did.

You all sat in the circle as Cupid readied her hand and gave the bottle a spin for you.

It pointed towards Varka and you knew there was no denying any feelings you had for him now

“You know, don’t don’t have to…” He started to tell you after being shoved into Briar’s overflowing closet

“No no, I mean, not unless you want to….” You replied

“And if I did?” He asked, his face getting closer

Dating Varka was fun whether you were a royal or a rebel! It didn’t make a difference to him.

Just because he started dating you doesn’t mean the admirers stopped, even if Cupid herself insisted you two were perfect for each other.

“Don’t let em get ya down.” He reassured you, “you’re the one for me.”

˖⋆࿐໋𝐀𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐨

She hated her mother, a stereotypical witch that lured children into her cottage to eat them.

She didn’t want to be like that and she held as much hatred for the system that was trying to force her to as that she did for her mom

Every other day there was spray paint over the headmaster’s door with a anti-destiny message

Or she was helping other rebels sneak into the classes they really wanted to take instead of the ones they were assigned

If you are a rebel, you’d grow close to Arlecchino by helping her by spreading the anti-destiny mission.

One night, she sneaks into your dorm room, tugging on the sleeve of your night shirt to wake you up

You two had been friends for awhile now but she was a pretty reserved person and didn’t want to intrude on you.

But since that wasn’t working she was forced to lean over you and shake you awake by your shoulders

“Arlecchino wha-“

“Graffiti on the side of the building, you forgot.”

“I didn’t forget…” You weakly insisted, a yawn coming over you

“You aren’t sleeping beauty, we have to get going.” She told you with a slightly irritated edge to her voice

One day, while taking a stroll through the forest, you find Arlecchino observing a few spiders making a web

“They are….” You started

“Fascinating creatures.” She finished your statement

You two stood beside each other, hands briefly grazing before you both pulled away. Neither of you willing to address the clear feelings you had for each other

If you were a royal, and one advent on following your destiny, being friends with Arlecchino would be a lot harder

She just doesn’t understand why you don’t want to pave your own way.

You two became friends because you were willing to occasionally help her with sneaking students into other classes. Learning is learning after all!

You both had a few disputes over your beliefs, but overall had a solid friendship, no different than her being friends with a rebel.

Now, there is one night where you two are sitting on the school’s roof, watching the stars.

The conversation of destiny gets brought up, and you try and act agreeable.

You both hadn’t argued in so long and you didn’t want to start now.

“Maybe you’ll come to enjoy…..disposing of children…” You weakly suggested.

“Do you hear yourself? You sound absurd.” Arlecchino insisted

“Okay, okay, you’re right, it isn’t fair that some people’s destines force them to become terrible people!” You exclaimed

“But…” Arlecchino started with a raised brow, encouraging you to finish

“But what about my Prince Charming? Or my castle? What will become of my destiny?” You selfishly pondered aloud

You both set in silence for a few beats, before Arlecchino spoke

“I’d be there to be your Prince Charming, if you needed one that is.”

Yeah she’s down bad

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thank you so much for reading!