𝖋𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖆

This is a jacaerys x reader fanfic where the reader is Cregan Stark’s sister. Slow burn-ish… NO DANCE OF THE DRAGONS AU/ no war/ aegon II doesnt usurp the throne. fem reader.

warnings: a little ooc, fluff, slow burn

synopsis: Jacaerys catches you in the garden, the two of you converse and get too close.

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Your ladies-in-waiting urged you awake, fretting incessantly about your lateness to rise.

“Fuck,” You cursed in a sleepy murmur as you sat up, then stood for Alaea, one of your ladies-in-waiting to dress you. Another, Merys, brushed your hair and wove some strands across the back of your head in detailed braids.

“You need not be so… nit-picky,” You sighed, your tone not exasperated but rather tired. “My lady, it is our jobs to be nitpickers. To make sure you’re dressed well and look even better, not that you’re not gorgeous as is.” Merys pointed out.

Her words amused you and a faint smile appeared on your face. She promptly placed an intricate necklace around your neck, one with a direwolf pendant strung with shiny jewels. Alaea finished adjusting your grape-colored gown, which you observed had some periwinkle flower pattern embroidered on the hem of it.

At night, you headed to see the gillyflower garden with a bowl of ripe, honeyed berries. The air was cool and crisp, and the steadfast breeze whispered as it brushed against the trees and weaved through the meadow. You knelt by the moonflowers, admiring their beauty. Hearing the sound of boots crunching on the ground behind you, you did not look at first, figuring that it was some servant perhaps. The sound neared you before it stopped before you. Your hair swayed in the wind as you turned your head toward the person, your eyes settling on the figure.

Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, of course. He kneeled beside you, keeping a comfortable distance.

“Gillyflowers, Lady Stark?” He hummed thoughtfully, in such a way that you had to question whether he was mocking you or not.

From what you heard however, he seemed not to be the one to jest and tease, especially not to those he was unfamiliar with. Gazing at his attire, you spotted that he sported an obsidian tunic, on it, the Targaryen symbol burned the color of blood on his thorax. His boots were dark as well, perhaps black but in the lighting your eyes were untrustworthy, and appeared quite sturdy, fit for more than just leisure walks to the palace gardens.

“I came to appreciate their beauty, Your Grace,” You remarked, twisting the mauve-fuchsia petals between your fingers lightly, as not to rip them but simply fiddling with them.

“You can call me Jacaerys,” He confidently stated.

“That’s seems quite friendly,” You shrugged, pursing your lips together.

“You do not wish to be friends?” Jacaerys responded in a mock miserable tone.

“You know that is not what I meant, Jacaerys,” You relented, straightening out slightly, a small smile playing on your lips. You looked up, meeting his gaze, truly seeing him for the first time. Jacaerys’ face carried nothing but an odd calmness—and something else you couldn’t quite place. Perhaps it was curiosity, or maybe playfulness. His hair framed his face, some curls peeking from under his ears, some falling from the sides of his forehead; his temples. It’s odd that people cry “Bastard!” simply because Jacaerys’ hair is not silver. You blinked, pulling yourself back to reality. It’s rude to keep a prince waiting!

“Perhaps you would like to sit, Jacaerys? I have honeyed berries.” You proposed, holding the bowl toward him. He settled comfortably at your words, and you lifted a brow at how relaxed he seemed.

“I believe you’ve met my brother,” You mentioned, recalling how your brother had talked about Jacaerys. You plucked some berries from the bowl, bringing to your tongue, rolling them around in your mouth at first before chewing. It was sweet, carrying just a twinge of sourness. The honey was thick and sticky, leaving residue on your fingers, but it was worth it for its syrupy tastes.

“Indeed, I met him during a tourney, and once more during a feast. He is an admirable man, a great swordsman.” He smiled fondly, which you can only believe is due to him reminiscing on conversations with your brother. He gingerly picked a berry up, most likely feeling awkward for not eating them.

“Sounds like him,” You mumble under your breath. You didn’t hate your brother, no- far from it, but feel as if you live in your brother’s shadow at times. That you have to meet up to the expectations others set for you after meeting him.

“Are you like your brother?” Jacaerys mused, placing berries in his mouth.

“Not really. I think I’m more headstrong. I’m blunt like him, and I’d like to think myself well at swords, but I’m not as collected as him.” You honestly stated. You look back at him as you reach for more berries. Up close, his beauty was even more mesmerizing. His cheeks had freckles scattered across it like kisses from the gods. His lashes were long, and curved. He looked back, and for a moment you two found yourselves just staring at each other. Then his gaze shifted lower, to your lips. You internally shut down.

“Some berry juice remain by your lips,” He murmured. You rubbed one corner of your mouth. A sense of relief filled you as he was simply pointing out juice, but another part, a hidden part of you, wished that it was for another reason. He clicked his tongue, reaching his finger-his thumb and wiping the juice away himself. Your heart beat in your chest. He brought his finger to his tongue licking the juice from his finger. Your cheeks burn crimson and you look away, subtly shifting your body away from him. Though you haven’t known him long; or quite well either, that seemed out of character for him. Swallowing- a panicked expression can’t help but cross your face. What was that?

“Sorry- it’s a habit,” He stammered, a bit frozen at what he had done.

Clearing your throat you stood up. “It’s quite late and I need to retire to my chambers for slumber. Goodnight, Jacaerys.” You hurriedly declared before fleeing to your bedchambers, not even sparing a moment to hear a response from his lips. Behind the door, you let out a breath you were unaware that you held in the first place. What was I doing? What was he doing? How were you supposed to see him again at the next feast!?

———————꧁⎝ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⎠꧂———————

summary: after basically running away from jace after y’all got a lil too close the previous night, you have to attend a feast. before attending such feast, you attempt to sneakily watch him spar with his younger brother— and he of course catches you but asks you to stay and watch him(!???). You do so and then attend the feast (things happen there too but I don’t wanna spoil) After the feast, you meet another peculiar prince.

slightly ooc jacaerys, use of you instead of y/n, some fluff, light cursing, stark!reader, fem reader, sparring, no dance of the dragons/no aegon II usurping the throne AU, a bit of cregan stark, aegon, helaena, aemond, and lucerys mentioned, rhaenyra is queen AU.

ps: if you hadn’t read the first bit, I highly recommend that you should just to have a better grip on the story and what’s going on.

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Gods curse me! What had I just done? You yelled at yourself internally as you sank against the door to your bedchambers. The thud echoed through the stone walls, and you winced fearing someone may hear and walk in on your clear distress. You had panicked. You left a prince! Not just any prince at that— their heir to the throne! How were you supposed to face him once more- you live in the same damned castle! Forcing yourself to regain your composure, you walked over to your bed, watching the ghostly moon in the dark sky. You were going to find a way to avoid him during the feast for Viserys II’s birthday, you had to.

Your ladies-in-waiting didn’t have to wake you up the next morning, truthfully you couldn’t get much sleep at all. You watched as the sun slowly rose and the birds started to chirp. You sat up in your bed, your hair tousled, your eyes sunken. This was going to be a long day. Merys audibly let out a gasp as she saw how you looked. She rushed over concerningly, her eyebrows twisted.

“My lady, did you sleep in the slightest? I will have a tea prepared for you immediately!” She proclaimed before rushing out of your room. Alaea said nothing and clothed you in a pale yellow dress, adorned with jewels and delicate patterns that folded into each crease of your skirt. The dress was a casual gown for outings, which had you wonder what you’d wear tonight. Would it be simplistic or lavish? Alaea added a sapphire ring on your index finger which you couldn’t bother to appreciate because your mind drifted to the subject of Jacaerys and how you would face him once more at the feast.

You venture through the halls of King’s Landing’s castle, your dress fluttering with each step you take. You sneak off to the courtyard where the knights trained, hoping to be unnoticed. Cregan had never quite encouraged you to watch him— or other knights— train in the courtyard, yet you had seen enough to recognize good swordsmanship. The sound of swords clashing and steel scraping becomes clearer as you walk to the source of it. You notice Jacaerys fighting effortlessly against his brother, Lucerys, whose swordsmanship paled in comparison to Jacaerys’. Even so, Jacaerys surprisingly did not hold back much at all. You’ve heard the people talk about how fond Jacaerys is about Lucerys, therefore you expected him to go very soft on him, but no. Lucerys lands on the ground with a soft thud accompanied by Jacaerys reprimanding him about fixing his techniques. You move slightly closer, trying to observe them in a matter that gives an unobstructed path of view to the brothers. Jacaerys’ hair was tousled and a thin line of sweat layered his face. His eyebrows were furrowed, eyes sharp, fixed on Lucerys as he scolded him, but you could still tell that deep down, he held a keen affection for his younger brother. Gods did Jacaerys fight well, and that just made him all the more attractive striking. If Cregan could see you now, he would burst into laughter seeing that you were practically hiding yourself from the princes just to watch them spar. Your foot grazes a rock as you lean closer, the sound noticeable to Lucerys’ ears. Lucerys’ eyes dart to you, noticing your figure by the tree that you were next to. You swiftly made an attempt to hide behind the tree but it was too late.

“Who goes?” Lucerys’ voice rung, boyish but stern.

Pushing your embarrassment and fears down, you revealed yourself to the boys.

“I apologize, Prince Lucerys. I was walking and stumbled upon this scene. My curiosity happened to best me,” You cautiously said, your voice steady, concealing your nervousness.

Your eyes flicker to Jacaerys and you greet him.

“Prince Jacaerys.” You mumbled after clearing your throat.

To that his eyes narrowed on you. Was he mad that you addressed him properly or that you interrupted his lecture? It seems as if you’d never know. After what seems to be an eternity, he looks away and his eyes fix back onto Lucerys, preparing to spar once more. You take that as your cue to make your escape and turn around.

“Where are you going?” Jacaerys’ voice rung out, catching you red-handed.

He didn’t even give you a moment to reply before he spoke his next words.

“You should watch.” Jacaerys asserted, in a tone that makes you feel that it’s an order and not a choice.

So you turn around, lean against the tree, and regard the spar. Jacaerys was fast and agile, not on the level of legendary fighters of this age like King Consort Daemon and Ser Criston Cole, but nonetheless he fought well and skillfully. Before Jacaerys could make a rectification, you had identified Lucerys’ mistake. It was a common one, so common you heard Cregan bark at his own men to correct it a countless number of times. You smiled despite yourself, knowing deep down Jacaerys would make a good king one day. Jacaerys knocks Lucerys’ sword out of his grasp and it clangs to the ground.

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You head to your chambers and take a bath there, your maids added various perfumes in the water, the scents lingering in the air. You relax a bit, the tension sinking away for just a moment. Your thoughts had drifted back to Winterfell, as they did quite often. You missed the quiet yet comforting atmosphere Winterfell had as opposed to King’s Landing’s bustling and quick pace. You missed the cold, northern air, and most of all you missed the hidden, warm hotsprings that would simmer away your doubts.

After a few minutes, you step out and your ladies-in-waiting clothe you in a beautiful gown adorned with various jewels that compliment the dress’ cobalt color. Alaea placed a dainty necklace on your neck, one with sparkling rubies. Merys puts a pigment on your lips (a color not quite red, brown or pink) as Alaea then shifts to adjusting your hair.

“My lady, you are truly captivating,” Merys looked as if she were to tear up.

You beamed at that, Merys always knew how to compliment— and capture your grace.

————————꧁⎝ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⎠꧂———————

You walked to the throne room with confidence, not letting your anxiety or nervousness show. You were a representation of Winterfell, of the Starks, of your brother even, you must hold your head high and hold the crown higher. Your brother always told you to carry your Northern honor, no matter where you were. You were proud to be a Stark. The nobles are buzzing with excitement, some fawning over young Viserys II and giving blessings to him. The minstrels perform the music like they’ve strum the same ballad hundreds of times— and they most likely have.

Your cobalt dress slides across the stone floors, shushing against the tiles. Your eyes flicker across the faces of familiar nobles of house Strong, house Velaryon, house Lannister, house Arryn, house Greyjoy, and even house Tully. All were presumably there to curry favor with Queen Rhaenyra. Your observant eyes flicker to the Targaryens, one had an eyepatch on his eye, and long silver hair (a classic Targaryen feature), the infamous Prince Aemond, who claimed Vhagar at a young age. You had remembered stories that had been told to you about the fury of Lady Baela and Lady Rhaena when Prince Aemond managed to claim Vhagar— and also how Prince Lucerys had been the one to “take” his eye. You can visibly see Prince Aemond’s uncomfortable expression, I suppose even though they formally made up, there was still some resentment. Next to Prince Aemond were Princess Helaena and Prince Aegon, both of which seem uninterested, yet Helaena seemed lots more approachable than the drunk Prince Aegon. The Queen Dowager, Alicent, stood beside Aegon, quietly scolding him about what you could only assume was his drunkenness. Her auburn hair looked just like the color of the trees here at King’s Landing during the autumn time. By Queen Rhaenyra stood Joffrey and Lucerys, looking just like their brother who approached you the previous night. Then your eyes landed on Jacaerys, whose eyes were thus far fixed on you. You held back a gulp. You met the Targaryens with a polite, regal bow. Trying to not catch more attention, you slip to the corners of the room, silently watching Lord Jason Lannister laugh with a stupid, arrogant smirk. You had always despised men whose egos were larger than their— that is not a very noble thought for a lady.

You keep your head down when you hear boots coming in your direction. It seems that it was expected, and it was no question as to who it was. The Prince of Dragonstone, heir to the Iron Throne, Prince Jacaerys met your gaze with a slight but polite smile. Practiced, but what could you expect? He’s the prince he must put on a show, and you were just another member of the audience. As he approached you could hear the murmurs of the ladies grow.

You bow, your eyes drifting to the floor below you.

“My Prince,” You spoke cooly, as if your heart wasn’t racing and pounding so hard you heard it in your ear.

“Lady Stark, you need not bow,” Jacaerys clicked his tongue, but still spoke softly.

His eyes flickered to your form as you got back up from your bow. You smoothed down your skirts, removing their wrinkles with your palm. With reluctance, you met his deep brown eyes.

Jacaerys looked at you for a beat longer before clearing his throat.

“May I have this dance, Lady Stark?” He asked politely, his hand extending outward toward you.

“I’d be a fool to refuse,” You couldn’t hide your excitement, for the corners of your lips twitched up when you spoke. Your hand met his, and you two gracefully danced along with the other nobles.

“You had left in quite a haste last night.” He whispered to you.

“It was late,” You lied, looking away from him.

Jacaerys muttered nothing back, but you knew that he could see through your lies.

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After the rather scandalous dance, you returned to the same garden where the two of you officially met, idly touching the gillyflowers whilst thinking about the charming prince.

Prince Aegon drunkenly stumbled into the garden, giggling to himself. You turned your head at the sound and held back a laugh at the sight.

“Ah, my lady.” He tripped over to you. “What a pleasure to see you.” Prince Aegon grabbed your hand and kissed it. You pulled your hand back, not in a haste as to not disrespect him. You’ve already disrespected enough princes in the past few days. Your hand was slightly wet, his sticky saliva on it, and you rubbed your hand against your dress.

“Prince Aegon,” You stated, trying to be as polite as possible, but even for you— he was a lot.

“If you need assistance to your chambers I can call a servant.” You suggested, trying to get him to leave.

Being near a man such as Prince Aegon was not a good look, and if anyone was watching you, they could get the wrong idea…

which someone was.

-———————꧁⎝ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⎠꧂———————-

had to post bc it didn’t feel right to not post it after (SPOILERS)

our beautiful prince died so yea.