Maylea Orlaith

As he pushed through the front door of the hockey house, the familiar scent of stale pizza, laundry detergent, and whatever Tucker had cooked earlier greeted him. He kicked off his shoes near the entrance and rolled his neck, already mentally planning his evening. That's when he noticed you and Garrett sitting shoulder-to-shoulder at the kitchen island, textbooks spread across the countertop.

Dean slowed, not because Garrett was studying, that wasn't unusual lately, but because Garrett looked utterly miserable. "Jesus," Garrett groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Remind me again why you want to pursue a career in this?" His eyes narrowed at the open psychology textbook like it had personally offended him. "Not memorizing the difference between operant conditioning and classical conditioning isn't the end of the world, G."

Dean couldn't help smiling. Somehow, whenever you were around, the house felt lighter. Before either of you could react, he crossed the room and made a beeline toward the kitchen island. Garrett spotted him first, a knowing smirk immediately tugged at his mouth, one which Dean blatantly ignored it. You barely had enough time to look up before all six-foot-two of him folded himself around you.

One arm slid around your shoulders, the other wrapped around your waist as his face buried itself in your hair as he let out a long, exhausted groan. "If you're having trouble distinguishing classical and operant conditioning, just make flash cards," You advised Garrett, as though you weren't currently trapped beneath an oversized hockey player. "Handwritten ones. They always helped me."

Without even thinking about it, your fingers slipped between Dean's where his hand rested against your stomach. The gesture was entirely unconscious. Dean's tired brain barely registered it, but Garrett's definitely did. "Are we not going to address the overgrown golden retriever currently hanging off your shoulder?" Garrett questioned, motioning toward Dean.

In response, Dean didn't move, in fact, his hold only tightened around your waist. You rolled your eyes at both their antics. "Are we not going to address the fact that you're here 'studying' on a Friday night because you refuse to admit your feelings for Hannah and couldn't stand the thought of her going out with Justin tonight?" The reaction was immediate, Garrett immediately went red, really red.

His jaw clenched as he snapped his attention back to his notes with exaggerated concentration. "Your girl is disturbingly insightful, Di Laurentis." He muttered which made you scoff as you playfully nudged his shin with your foot from across the table. “Damn straight she is.” Dean’s answer came instantly, low and smug, with a kiss pressed to your forehead that you unconsciously leaned into which made Dean's stomach do something profoundly embarrassing.

For a few moments, only the rustle of paper and the hum of the refrigerator filled the kitchen. Then you reached across the counter and squeezed Garrett's hand, your expression softening. "Hey, G," You muttered softly as Garrett's eyes slowly lifted to meet yours. "For what it's worth, I don't think Hannah likes Justin nearly as much as you think she does." Garrett squeezed your hand back, hope flashing across his face before he could hide it.

Dean watched the exchange quietly, body still wrapped around you. He didn't notice the way his thumb kept tracing small absent minded circles against your waist. He did notice that when you smiled at Garrett, he felt oddly jealous of his best friend for getting that look. And for the first time in a very long time, Dean couldn't help but wonder if maybe his attachment to his childhood "friend" wasn't quite as platonic as he'd always pretended it was.

2. Self-Care Day with Summer

Safe to say Dean had a shitty day.

All he wanted now was you. He wanted to kick off his shoes, collapse onto his bed, and bury himself in your arms while your fingers lazily carded through his messy hair. He wanted your soft voice filling the silence, your hand rubbing slow circles across his back until the tension seeped from every tight muscle in his body. The guys would never let him live it down if they knew, but Dean really couldn't bring himself to care.

As he pushed open the front door of the hockey house, the familiar sounds of shouting commentators and button mashing greeted him. Logan and Tucker were planted on opposite ends of the couch, controllers gripped tightly in their hands as they battled it out on the TV. An empty pizza box sat abandoned on the coffee table, surrounded by half-empty Gatorade bottles and crumpled napkins.

Dean barely spared them a glance, his eyes immediately sweeping areas where you'd probably be. The kitchen, empty. The dining room, nothing. No backpack tossed over one of the chairs. No oversized sweatshirt draped over the counter. No mug of tea you'd inevitably forget to finish. "Looking for your girl?" Logan's amused voice pulled him from his search. Without taking his eyes off the television, a knowing smirk spread across his face.

Dean didn't even bother correcting him anymore. "You seen her?" He asked, already craning his neck toward the hallway as if you might magically appear. Logan shrugged one shoulder. "She was here with Wellsy earlier. Upstairs probably." That was all Dean needed. He took the stairs two at a time, each step creaking beneath his weight. His exhaustion momentarily forgotten, as he headed straight for his bedroom.

"Y/N?" He called, knocking lightly before twisting the doorknob. The room was empty, bed neatly made, and the hoodie you'd stolen from him last week was nowhere to be found. Dean frowned. Without even realizing what he was doing, his phone was already in his hand, your contact pulled up from muscle memory. His thumb hit the call button before he had a chance to even think twice.

The phone rang twice before: "Hi, Dicky!" Dean physically recoiled. "What the hell— Summer?" His eyebrows shot toward his hairline. "What are you doing with Y/N's phone?" An exaggerated scoff crackled through the speaker, he could practically see Summer rolling her eyes. "Contrary to popular belief, Dicky," Summer huffed. "She doesn't belong to you. She was my friend first."

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, a fresh headache blooming almost instantly. "Just give her the phone, Summer." He heard muffled voices, the sound of the phone changing hands, and then: "Hi, Dean." It was amazing what two simple words could do. The knot between his shoulder blades loosened. His jaw unclenched. The lingering frustration in his body eased just from hearing your voice. A smile tugged at his lips before he could stop it.

"Babydoll," He murmured, unable to hide the relief in his voice. "Where are you? And why on earth are you with my hellion of a sister?" Your soft laugh drifted through the speaker, warm enough to make him wish you were standing beside him instead. Somewhere in the background, Summer barked an offended, "Dick." You laughed harder before finally answering. "She called me this morning after my eight a.m. class. She was having a bad day, so I drove into Manhattan to spend the day with her."

"You drove all the way to Manhattan?" Dean blinked. "Of course I did, Summer needed me." His heart did that stupid thing it always seemed to do around you. You hadn't hesitated. Summer needed someone, and you'd simply gone. No complaints. Just packed your things and made the drive because someone you cared about asked. There was another shuffle on the other end before Summer snatched the phone back. "Retail therapy works wonders, Dicky," She announced proudly.

"She'll be all yours tomorrow, but today?" Summer continued, smug satisfaction dripping from every word. "Today she's mine. Love you. Bye!" Seconds later, the line went suddenly dead. Dean stared down at his phone for several long seconds before letting out a disbelieving laugh. Of course Summer would steal your phone. Of course she'd hang up before he could get another word in.

But none of that was what stuck with him. What lingered was the realization that the second his sister admitted she was struggling, you'd dropped everything and driven nearly four hours just to make sure Summer didn't have to be alone. No hesitation. No expectation of anything in return. Just because that's who you were. Dean had always known you had the biggest heart of anyone he'd ever met. Today, though...

Today, he caught himself wishing he was more than just a friend.

3. The Injury

"Let her through! She's with the team!" Garrett's authoritative voice cut cleanly through the chaos surrounding the arena tunnel, commanding enough that even over the frantic chatter, blaring arena speakers, and the lingering roar of thousands of fans filing toward the exits, everyone nearby turned their heads. However, you barely heard him. Your heartbeat thundered so loudly in your ears it drowned out almost everything else.

"I'm the captain of this team," Garrett interrupted sharply, stepping between you and security. "She's family." The guard hesitated only a second before stepping aside. The moment the path cleared, your feet carried you forward before your brain had a chance to catch up. Garrett fell into step beside you, one steady hand settling against the middle of your back as if he could feel the way your entire body trembled.  

"How is he?" Your voice barely sounded like your own. Garrett's jaw tightened. "The medic thinks he'll be out at least two weeks." His expression darkened. "Mild concussion and a fractured ankle." Hot fury ignited beneath your ribs. Not at Dean, but at the player who had recklessly swept his stick between Dean's legs. You'd watched it happen. There'd been no attempt to play the puck. It was just a cheap shot.

A dangerous one.

Your hands curled into fists as the replay flashed through your mind all over again. "He keeps asking for you," Garrett continued, his tone softening. "Won't let anyone get a word in." Despite everything, the corner of your mouth twitched. "He's being more annoying than usual," Garrett added with a tired sigh. "Logan and Tucker are about five minutes away from knocking him unconscious themselves."

That definitely sounded like Dean. "I should probably go micromanage before they make good on that threat." Garrett chuckled under his breath and pulled open the door to the medical room. The sight waiting on the other side nearly made your knees buckle. Dean sat propped awkwardly on the examination chair, his hockey pants and jersey still on, shoulder pads discarded in a heap beside him.

His normally perfect blond curls were damp with sweat and flattened where his helmet had been, several loose strands sticking out in every direction. A medic knelt beside him, carefully supporting his injured ankle while a PT intern shined a light into his eyes, checking his pupils. Logan and Tucker both stood on each side of him, still wearing their jerseys, neither looking remotely interested in getting changed until they knew Dean was okay.

"Garrett went to get her, just wait." Logan reminded him patiently, keeping a firm hand planted on Dean's shoulder the second he tried to stand again. "Let the medic finish checking you out, man." Tucker coaxed like the mother hen he was. Dean opened his mouth, ready to argue then his eyes found yours. It was almost eerie, like he'd sensed you before you'd even stepped through the doorway.

The tension visibly drained from his shoulders. Relief flooded his features so quickly it made your chest ache. "Babydoll..." He breathed, every ounce of stubbornness disappearing. "Thank fuck." He sank back into the chair, extending both hands toward you without an ounce of hesitation. "C'mere... please." There wasn't a universe where you wouldn't. You crossed the room in two quick strides.

The second your fingers slipped between his, Dean gripped them like a lifeline. Like he'd been holding himself together by sheer force of will until you walked through that door. Your eyes immediately began searching him. A faint scrape along his cheekbone. Fresh bruising already blooming beneath one eye. A split lip. The ugly swelling around his ankle. "You scared the hell out of me, Dean." You whispered, your voice catching despite your best efforts to keep it steady.

Dean's thumb swept absentminded circles across the back of your hand. Whatever pain medication they'd given him had softened the hard edges around his eyes, leaving him wearing a crooked, hopelessly boyish smile that somehow made him look younger. "How's your head?" You asked gently, your free hand lifted almost on its own, brushing one stubborn blond curl away from his forehead before tucking it back into place.

Your fingertips lingered there for a heartbeat longer than necessary, wanting the reassurance that he was really here. Dean leaned unconsciously into your touch. "Never had any complaints, babydoll." He punctuated the line with an exaggerated wink. An audible chorus of groans filled the room. "Oh my fucking God." Logan muttered, eyes rolling. "He's concussed and still flirting." Tucker complained, rubbing both hands down his face.

You felt heat instantly flood your cheeks, but ultimately chose to ignore it. "Oh, you're absolutely fine." You huffed, rolling your eyes as you tried to tug your hand free. Only Dean wasn't having it. His fingers tightened around yours and with one gentle pull, he drew you closer until you stood between his knees, your bodies only inches apart. The teasing grin he'd been wearing slowly faded.

Something quieter settled over his features, something almost fragile. His thumb continued tracing slow circles across your knuckles, grounding himself in the simple fact that you were here. That he could still hold your hand. "Thanks for being here." The words came quietly. Without the usual confidence. Without a joke to soften them. Just plain, raw honesty. You didn't even have to think about your answer.

Your other hand rose to cup his cheek, brushing over the rough stubble beginning to grow along his jaw. "There's nowhere else I'd be." Dean's breath caught. Those five simple words landed somewhere deep inside his chest, slipping past every wall he'd spent years carefully building. He'd spent so long convincing himself that what he felt for you was just harmless, a silly crush that would eventually go away.

But watching you burst through security with tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. Feeling your hands check every bruise like you could somehow erase the pain. Hearing you tell him there was nowhere else you'd rather be. It unraveled him. The feeling he'd been trying so desperately to bury came rushing back all at once, stronger than ever. Because for one terrifying moment on that ice, he'd thought he might open his eyes and not get to see you looking at him like he was the only person in the room.

4. Tucker’s Deathbed

Dean: Might wanna stay away tonight, Tuck’s got one hell of a cold.

Respectfully, there was no way in hell you were listening to that text. Your psychology paper on stress sat half-finished on your laptop, several journal articles scattered across your desk, but they could wait another night. Tucker couldn't. Besides, you knew exactly why Dean had texted you. He wasn't trying to be controlling, far from it.

He knew how often you caught whatever bug was going around campus, and the last thing he wanted was for you to spend the next week sniffling and miserable. It was sweet, but it was also completely futile seeing as your mind was already made up. You quickly shoved your laptop shut, gathered your keys, slipped your feet into your sneakers, and headed out the door before you had the chance to think twice about it.

Ten minutes later, you were pulling into the familiar driveway of the hockey house. The porch light cast a warm glow over the worn wooden steps, and the second you let yourself inside, the usual atmosphere felt...off. There was no music blasting from Logan's room. No laughter echoing through the halls. No Tucker humming while experimenting with whatever recipe had caught his attention that week.

Closing the front door behind you, your gaze immediately landed on the couch. "Oh, sweet Tuck." Your voice softened into something almost maternal. Tucker looked absolutely miserable. He was cocooned beneath two thick blankets despite the thermostat being turned up, curly hair sticking out in every direction, cheeks flushed an unhealthy shade of pink. A mountain of crumpled tissues littered the coffee table beside half-empty glasses of water and an abandoned mug of tea that had long since gone cold.

Setting your purse onto the nearest chair, you crossed the room quietly until you stood beside the couch. Your hand found his forehead with featherlight pressure, careful not to startle him awake. The warmth beneath your palm made you hiss. His skin was damp with sweat, far warmer than it should've been. He cracked one sleepy eye open before lazily batting your hand away with all the strength of a disgruntled toddler. "You're gonna get sick, Y/N." He mumbled, voice rough from congestion.

"Have you taken anything? Eaten?" You asked, purposely ignoring him. A weak shake of his head made you frown as he burrowed farther beneath the blanket until all you could really see was the top of his head. Without another word, you disappeared into the kitchen. Opening cabinet after cabinet, you smiled when everything was exactly where you'd expected. If there was one thing Tucker took almost as seriously as hockey, it was cooking.

Rolling up your sleeves, you got to work. Butter melted with a quiet sizzle before onions, carrots, and celery joined the pot, filling the kitchen with the comforting aroma of sautéing vegetables. Garlic followed moments later, its rich scent curling through the house. You shredded leftover rotisserie chicken Tucker had prepared earlier in the week, added handfuls of fresh herbs from the windowsill, poured in the homemade stock, and let everything simmer low and slow.

Nearly twenty minutes later, the soup bubbled gently on the stove, filling every room with warmth. Which was probably why the front door swung open. Logan stepped inside first, Garrett followed, and Dean came in last. All three stopped dead in the entryway as the unmistakable scent of homemade chicken noodle soup drifted toward them. Dean's gaze found you almost instantly, it was second nature nowadays.

You stood at the stove in one of Tucker's aprons, sleeves pushed to your elbows as you stirred the soup with practiced ease. Something deep in his chest squeezed painfully the more he looked at you. God, you looked like you belonged there. Like you'd always belonged there. His stomach flipped at the domestic image. The thought came so naturally it almost scared him. He could picture this years from now: Coming home after practice. Finding you in a kitchen making dinner, scolding one of the guys for skipping lunch.

It was such a simple fantasy, one he had absolutely no business imagining. "I thought I told you to stay home." Dean's voice carried equal parts exasperation and concern as he crossed his arms against his chest. "Last I checked, none of you know how to cook," You replied matter-of-factly while ladling soup into bowls. "Tuck needs homemade soup not whatever sodium-packed excuse for soup you three would've heated up from a can." Their silence spoke volumes.

Oh how you loved being right.

You slid two steaming bowls across the island toward Garrett and Logan who were openly salivating. "Sit and eat." Both men obeyed immediately, neither needed to be told twice. "You're my favorite person ever." Logan declared, already reaching for a spoon. "I've been saying that for years," Garrett chimed in, grinning as he accepted the bowl. "Thanks, sweetheart."

Dean watched the exchange in silence, eyes never leaving you as he watched you carry another bowl into the living room. You crouched beside Tucker, placing the soup carefully on the coffee table before setting cold medicine and a bottle of water beside it. "There we go." Your fingers brushed his forehead once more. "A little less warm." Tucker managed the weakest smile imaginable before taking a tentative bite.

Within minutes he looked noticeably more alive. Color slowly returned to his face as warmth spread through him. Dean, however, couldn't stop watching you. Couldn't stop noticing how naturally you slipped into caretaker mode. You remembered everyone's favorite meals. You always noticed when one of them skipped breakfast. You always looked after them without ever expecting anything in return.

It was simply woven into who you were.

"Serious question." Logan's voice pulled everyone's attention back toward the dining table. You looked up, brows furrowing and mentally preparing for what Logan was about to say. He pointed his spoon toward you. "Why has literally nobody wifed you up yet?" Your eyes widened, heat creeping up into your cheeks as you blinked at him processing his words. A nervous laugh escaped as you simply shrugged one shoulder instead of answering.

Thankfully, Logan accepted your non-answer. "Wild." He muttered before returning his full attention to the soup in front of him. You let out a quiet breath of relief, completely missing what happened across the room. Tucker slowly lifted his gaze as Garrett did the same, both men turning towards Dean in perfect synchronization. Dean was already glaring at them, if looks could kill both hockey players would already be six-feet under.

Garrett bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling and Tucker looked seconds away from bursting out laughing despite the gruesome cold. Because they both knew. They'd watched Dean stare at you from the second he'd walked through the front door. Watched his eyes follow every movement you made. Watched the way his expression softened whenever you smiled his way.

Logan, blissfully unaware of the silent conversation unfolding beside him, happily shoveled another spoonful of soup into his mouth. Dean barely noticed, because despite his two smartass friends smirking at his obliviousness, his attention had drifted back to you. Back to the way you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you rinsed dishes. Back to the quiet hum you made under your breath while cleaning Tucker's kitchen.

Back to how effortlessly you took care of people you loved.

You were a catch. Dean had always known that. He'd known it long before anyone else started noticing. Long before Logan blurted it out over dinner. The problem was, other people were starting to realize it too. And someday, someone was going to look at you the way Dean already did. They'd flirt with you. Take you out. Learn your coffee order. Memorize the little wrinkle that appeared beside your nose whenever you laughed.

Most importantly, they'd get to call you theirs. The thought alone lodged itself beneath his ribs like a skate blade carving into fresh ice. It shouldn't have bothered him as much as it did. You were his childhood best friend. He should've been thrilled if someone made you happy. Instead, all he could think was: I hope they don't. And that terrified him far more than any hockey game ever could.

5. The Male Gaze

"Hey, Y/N, is it true that Archer Beckett asked you out?" The question left Beau's mouth so casually you'd think he was asking you about the weather. Dean, on the other hand, nearly inhaled his beer. He coughed violently, setting the bottle down with a little more force than intended as carbonation burned the back of his throat. Beside him, Garrett didn't even attempt to hide his grin, his shoulders already beginning to shake with silent laughter.

Across the table, you took another leisurely sip of your piña colada, completely oblivious to the internal crisis unfolding three feet away. "He did." You confirmed, shrugging nonchalantly. Dean's entire body went rigid, his jaw locked so tightly he could feel his molars grinding together. Archer Beckett, of course it had to be Archer fucking Beckett. The lacrosse captain had been circling you for weeks like a damn shark.

Every time Dean turned around, Archer was "coincidentally" showing up wherever you happened to be, outside the psych building, in line at the campus coffee shop, even at Malone's after games. Dean had noticed, he noticed everything when it came to you. "What'd you tell him?" Hannah wondered from across the table, tucked comfortably beneath Garrett's arm.

Dean sat a little straighter without realizing it, every muscle in his body tensed as he waited for your answer. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Garrett and Beau exchanging identical shit-eating grins. Again. Lately they'd been doing that a lot. Assholes. You swirled the straw around your drink absentmindedly before answering as though the conversation couldn't possibly be less important. "I told him I wasn't interested."

Dean forgot how to breathe. Relief washed over him so suddenly it nearly made him dizzy. It came in one overwhelming wave, loosening the knot in his chest before he'd even processed why. His shoulders relaxed and the death grip he'd had on his beer bottle eased. A part of him, a part he'd spent months trying very hard to ignore, felt absurdly, ridiculously happy.

"The guy's relentless," Garrett observed, lifting his beer toward his lips. "I'm honestly surprised he backed off that easily." Dean caught the smug smirk Garrett aimed directly at him over the rim of his bottle. The silent message couldn't have been clearer: You hear that, Di Laurentis? She turned him down. Make your move, idiot. Dean responded by silently mouthing, I'm going to kill you to which Garrett's grin only widened.

Thankfully, you remained blissfully unaware of the silent death threats being exchanged across the table. "I need another drink." You stood, gathering your empty glass before pointing toward the bar. "Anyone want a refill?" Everyone but Hannah declined. Dean opened his mouth to offer to go with you, but the opportunity disappeared before the words reached his tongue because you were already weaving through the various crowds of people toward the bar.

His eyes followed instinctively as they always did. He watched as you smiled at Allie the second you reached the bar, leaning comfortably against the polished wood as the short brunette reached over the counter to squeeze your hand before beginning your drink. Dean couldn't help smiling too. "Dude, you're so whipped." Beau's voice yanked him back to reality. Dean managed to drag his gaze away from you just long enough to glare murderously at his best friend.

"At least pretend you're listening to us instead of staring at her like she hung the moon. You've watched her walk to the bar like four times already, man." Garrett interrupted, amusement dancing across his face. Dean scoffed at Garrett's words, opening his mouth to rebuttal before Hannah held her hand up stopping him. "Dean, at least try to hide it better." Hannah teased, smiling far too knowingly.

"Wellsy, don't encourage them." Dean groaned dramatically. "I'm not encouraging anything." Hannah's smile only grew. "I'm just observing." Dean rolled his eyes dramatically before looking back toward the televisions mounted behind the bar. Or at least, that was his intention. Instead, his attention landed on you again, watching as your eyes were fixated on Shane Hollander as he carried the puck through the neutral zone while Ilya Rozanov shadowed him stride for stride on the television screen.

Dean smiled despite himself, only you would get distracted by hockey while ordering drinks. Then he noticed them. Three guys at the opposite end of the bar. One of them glanced your way, then another. A fourth turned completely around in his stool. Dean's smile vanished instantly. They weren't watching the game, they were watching you. His grip tightened around his beer bottle until his knuckles turned white.

One of them, a tall brunette with an easy grin and far too much confidence nudged his friend before climbing off his stool. Dean's pulse immediately picked up as he watched the guy walk straight toward you. "I just love it when he gets territorial." Beau snickered as Hannah immediately elbowed Garrett in the ribs hard enough to earn an exaggerated grunt, though the smile she was unsuccessfully trying to suppress betrayed her.

They'd all noticed. Of course they did.

Dean didn't bother with them, his gaze was solely on you, stomach twisting unpleasantly. He had absolutely no right to feel possessive. You weren't his girlfriend. Hell, you weren't even remotely close to being his. You could flirt with whoever you wanted. Accept drinks from whoever you wanted. Go on dates with whoever you wanted. The thought alone made something ugly twist low in his stomach.

Jealousy.

Because it wasn't just that he didn't want Archer Beckett asking you out anymore. He didn't want anyone asking you out. He didn't want another guy making you laugh. Didn't want someone else memorizing your coffee order. Didn't want someone else bringing you flowers during finals week because they knew you were stressed. Didn't want someone else being the person you instinctively reached for.

He didn't want to be just your best friend anymore. He wanted to be the man sitting beside you. The one whose hand you'd reach for beneath the table. The one you'd kiss goodnight. The one you'd introduce as yours. Thankfully, after a few gruesome minutes which really seemed like decades, he watched as the brunette returned to his friends a few moments later. Empty-handed; no longer smiling and head hung low. Only then did Dean realize he'd been holding his breath.

You followed shortly after, balancing two frozen piña coladas with practiced ease, once again, completely oblivious to the emotional crisis currently unfolding inside Dean's head. "What'd he want?" The question escaped before Dean could stop it. You slid Hannah's drink across the table before answering. "Oh," You shrugged, hand waving dismissively as if it was no big deal. "He wanted to buy me a drink, but I told him my boyfriend was waiting for me."

Silence.

Dean stared, his brain stopped functioning altogether.

"Boyfriend?" He echoed weakly. You looked at him as though the answer was obvious, a tiny smile tugged at your lips. "I knew he wouldn't question it if I pointed at you." Dean's heart slammed against his ribs. You'd said it so naturally, so effortlessly. As if pretending Dean was yours had come as easily as breathing. You reached across the table without thinking, your fingers wrapping gently around his forearm, the simple touch nearly undid him.

"You don't mind, do you, Dean?" You looked almost worried, like the possibility of upsetting him genuinely bothered you. Across the table, Garrett looked ready to burst into laughter. Beau had outright stopped pretending to hide his grin. Even Hannah pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. Yet, Dean barely noticed. He was too busy imagining what it would've felt like if your words had actually been true. My boyfriend. God, he wanted to hear you say that again.

Not as an excuse, not to get rid of some random guy at a bar, but because you meant it. The realization settled over him with startling certainty. He wasn't just protective. He wasn't just attached because you'd been friends forever. He wasn't just comfortable around you. He was hopelessly, irrevocably in love with his best friend. And judging by the three idiots trying and failing not to laugh across the table, everyone seemed to know it before he did.

He swallowed hard, giving your hand a gentle squeeze before forcing himself to smile. "Course not, babydoll." You smiled back, satisfied with his answer, completely unaware that the tiny lie had just shattered what was left of his resolve. Because the truth was, Dean minded more than he could ever admit. Not because you'd called him your boyfriend, but because he wasn't. God, he wanted to be. More than his next championship. More than hockey. More than anything.

+1 The Hat Trick

The sharp November air nipped at your cheeks the second you stepped out of the car, your breath curling into soft white clouds as you made your way toward the entrance of the Briar arena. Even after countless games, countless Friday nights spent wrapped in Briar blue, there was still something magical about hockey nights.

The bright arena lights reflected against the freshly resurfaced sheet of ice, music boomed through the speakers as students flooded into the stands. Your eyes immediately searched for one player in particular. Dean, it was always Dean. The knot that had lived in your stomach for the past two weeks loosened the moment you spotted number sixty-six gliding effortless laps around center ice during warmups.

He was back. After the concussion and the fractured ankle. After countless days of sitting beside his bed while he complained about being benched, insisting he was "perfectly fine," and begged you to sneak him out of physical therapy. The team medic had finally cleared him that morning. Watching him skate again should've filled you with relief. Instead, your traitorous brain decided to notice how his practice jersey stretched across his shoulders every time he leaned into a stride.

How the muscles in his thighs flexed beneath his hockey pants as he dug his edges into the ice. How one damp blond curl escaped beneath his helmet while he stretched against the boards. You tore your eyes away with an embarrassed cough. Absolutely not. There was a hockey game to watch, not Dean Di Laurentis looking unfairly attractive while doing literally anything. Beside you, Hannah caught the direction of your gaze, hiding a knowing smile behind her cup of hot chocolate.

Thankfully, the referee's whistle echoed through the arena, signaling the start of the game before she could say anything. The opening puck drop snapped your attention back where it belonged. The first period against Harvard flew by in a blur of hard checks and blistering speed. Dean looked like he'd never left the lineup. He was everywhere. Breaking up passes through the neutral zone. Winning puck battles along the boards. Setting crushing screens in front of Harvard's goalie.

Even when he wasn't scoring, he dictated the pace every time his line hopped over the boards. Midway through the first period, Garrett intercepted a sloppy pass just inside Briar's blue line.Without hesitation, he banked the puck off the boards toward Logan, who exploded down the right wing with Tucker keeping pace on the opposite side. The three connected like they shared one brain.

Logan faked a slapshot which allowed for Tucker to intercept, cleanly sliding the puck into the goal. The red light flashed, the goal horn erupted, and the arena exploded. You shot to your feet along with Hannah and everyone else, cheering until your throat burned. Dean was the first one to reach Tucker, wrapping an arm around his shoulders before shoving his helmet affectionately.

By the middle of the second period, Logan buried one of his own after Dean fought through two defenders behind the net to feed him a perfect no-look pass. A few minutes later Tucker struck again on the power play after Garrett rifled a shot from the point that bounced straight onto Tucker's stick. Everything Briar touched seemed to turn into goals tonight. The chemistry between the four upperclassmen was almost unfair to watch.

Every pass landed tape-to-tape. Every line change happened seamlessly. Every player seemed to know exactly where the others would be before they even got there. At the end of the second period, Briar held a comfortable 3-1 lead against Harvard. "Dean is going to lose his mind when he sees you in his jersey tonight." Hannah leaned closer with an unmistakably mischievous smile, which made a blush climb up your neck as you instinctively glanced down.

Dean's navy blue jersey hung almost to the middle of your thighs, the sleeves swallowing your hands completely. You'd borrowed it from Beau after he'd insisted Dean deserved a little 'extra motivation'. "He hasn't even noticed." Hannah smiled knowingly, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Trust me babe, he'll notice." Before you could ask what that cryptic statement meant, the buzzer sounded meaning that the third period had officially began.

Harvard came out desperate. Every shift became increasingly physical as the numbers of the clock counted down. Bodies slammed into the glass hard enough to make the boards rattle. Unfortunately, the referees' whistles remained suspiciously quiet. You hated when games turned like this, knowing that the desperation made players reckless. Halfway through the period, Dean carried the puck through the neutral zone with impossible speed.

One defender challenged him, luckily Dean was able to effortlessly slip around him effortlessly only for a second to step up. Dean toe-dragged the puck between the man's skates. The crowd collectively rose to its feet, only before he could shoot, a Harvard defenseman drove him shoulder-first into the plexiglass. Your breath caught as the impact thundered through the arena. Dean, however, bounced off the boards, somehow maintaining possession before spinning away from another defender.

He never even looked shaken, instead he cut toward the slot. Garrett anticipated the play perfectly. One crisp pass was all it took for Dean to snap a wrist shot through the two defenders. The net rippled as the goal horn blared yet again. You were already on your feet before you realized you'd moved. Dean pointed toward the student section as his teammates swarmed him in congratulatory helmet bumps. For one irrational second, you could've sworn he was looking directly at you.

When you finally sat back down, Hannah's grin could've powered the entire arena. "Told you." You shoved her shoulder, which only made her grin widen. "Oh, shut up." Only, you were smiling too hard to sound annoyed. Barely ninety seconds later, Dean struck again. Logan forced a turnover at center ice and immediately passed to Garrett. In response, Garrett threaded a pass between two Harvard sticks that had absolutely no business making it through.

Dean picked it up in stride, one fake forehand made the goalie drop in anticipation to which Dean calmly pulled the puck back to his backhand and slid it between the goalie's pads before anyone could react. Another goal and another explosion from the crowd. Your hands hurt from clapping, voice embarrassingly hoarse yet you couldn't find youself to care. The scoreboard now read 5-1 which in turn made Harvard's frustration boil over.

With just over two minutes remaining in the third period, one of their forwards blindsided Logan long after he'd dumped the puck in the net. Gasps echoed around the arena as Logan crashed awkwardly into the boards. Dean was halfway across the ice before Logan even climbed back to his skates, Garrett and Tucker followed immediately after seeing Dean shove the Harvard player backward with enough force to send him stumbling several feet.

Luckily, the freshmen on Briar's bench dragged the upperclassmen away before punches started flying. One minute remained. The arena buzzed with nervous anticipation despite Briar's lead, your lip was caught between your teeth watching as Garrett and Dean wordlessly communicated with one another. No words were exchanged. Years of playing together had made communication almost instinctive.

Garrett stole the puck near Briar's blue line and Dean was there in an instant, already alert. Garrett feathered a perfect stretch pass through the neutral zone. Dean caught it in stride without breaking rhythm. One defender remained, shifting left as the the defenseman followed. Dean snapped the puck back right through his own skates, slipping around him with breathtaking ease. The goalie lunged. Dean, however, waited until the last possible second lifting the puck cleanly beneath the crossbar.

The red light flashed and the horn sounded. For a heartbeat, the arena went completely silent, then every single person inside exploded. "A HAT TRICK BY #66, DEAN DI LAURENTIS!" The announcer's voice echoed through the building. Without thinking you threw your arms around Hannah, the two of you laughed as you nearly toppled into the row in front of you, hugging each other while the entire team tackled Dean beneath an avalanche of helmets and gloves.

Six-two. Final. Dean Di Laurentis. Hat trick.

You'd never been prouder. By the time you and Hannah reached the tunnel, your heart was still racing, body buzzing with adrenaline. Players filtered through in small groups, laughing loudly as they relived every goal. Garrett appeared first and Hannah didn't hesitate. She practically flew into his arms, you couldn't help but beam as Garrett caught her effortlessly, spinning her once before pressing a kiss against her forehead before dipping down and pressing one to her lips.

Then, Dean walked through. His helmet had disappeared somewhere during the celebration, blond curls damp with sweat, sticking up in every direction, cheeks flushed from exertion. When his eyes caught yours, everything ceased to exist. The coaches. The teammates. The reporters. The noise. There was only you. In two quick strides he was right in front of you. One second there was a few feet separating the two of you and the next, his hands were around your waist, lifting you effortlessly off the concrete.

A startled laugh bubbled from your lips as your feet left the ground. Instinctively, your arms wound around his neck, fingers brushing against the damp curls at the nape of his neck. He held you impossibly close, burying his face against your shoulder for the briefest moment as his heartbeat hammered wildly against your chest. He'd just scored a hat trick. The arena had chanted his name. Thousands of hats had rained onto the ice. Yet none of it compared to this. None of it compared to having you in his arms.

You melted into his embrace without hesitation, holding him just as tightly. "That was amazing!" You laughed, pulling back just enough to cup his flushed cheeks between your hands. Your eyes sparkled with so much pride that it stole what little breath he had left. "A hat trick, Dean! I'm so fucking proud of you." Dean couldn't remember the last time someone had looked at him with so much unfiltered admiration. Maybe no one ever had.

His eyes drifted downward before he could stop them and his breath caught. You were wearing a jersey, but not just any Briar jersey. His. His last name stretched proudly across your shoulders, and the white number on the front rested directly over your heart. Something inside his chest squeezed so painfully he almost winced. It really shouldn't have affected him the way it did. It was just a jersey. Just fabric. Except, it wasn't. Seeing his name on you awakened every selfish, possessive thought he'd spent months trying to bury.

It looked right. Far too right.

"You're wearing my jersey." The words escaped almost reverently. Your gaze followed his before a rosy blush crept across your cheeks. "Oh." You smiled sheepishly, smoothing the front of it with your palms. "Beau practically insisted. He claimed it was good luck since you guys are only two games away from another Frozen Four." Yet, Dean barely registered your explanation. His thoughts were spiraling too quickly. His jersey. Your smile. The way you'd waited for him in the tunnel instead of celebrating with everyone else.

The way you'd hugged him before anyone else had the chance. The way you'd looked absolutely radiant cheering for him from the stands. His mind replayed every moment from the last few months in painful succession. You showing up with homemade soup when Tucker got sick. Driving hours just because Summer needed a friend. Holding his hand while the medic checked him over after his injury. Calling yourself his girlfriend just to get another guy to leave you alone.

Every forehead kiss he'd lingered on a little too long. Every hug he'd held a few seconds longer than necessary. Every excuse he'd made just to have you close. He'd spent months convincing himself that wanting you around all the time was normal. That missing you after only a few hours was normal. That getting irrationally jealous every time another guy looked at you was normal. Only it wasn't. It had never been normal. He couldn't keep pretending anymore, he wouldn't.

"Dean?" Your voice was soft, tinged with concern now that he'd gone completely quiet. Your thumb brushed gently across his cheek. "You okay?" His eyes found yours again. God. How had he been so blind? He was so unbelievably in love with you it almost hurt. A helpless laugh escaped him as he shook his head once, mind made up. "Fuck it." Before doubt had a chance to creep back in, he surged forward and captured your lips with his.

The kiss was soft at first, almost hesitant. As if he was giving you every opportunity to stop him. You didn't. Instead, your surprised gasp melted into a smile against his mouth before you kissed him back with equal certainty. Every ounce of fear he'd carried for months dissolved in an instant. His hands slid more securely around your waist, holding you like he'd dreamed about doing for far too long.

Not because he was afraid you'd disappear, but because after wanting this for what felt like forever, he couldn't bear to put even an inch of distance between the two of you. Your fingers disappeared into his blond curls, gently scratching at his scalp as your tilted your head deepening the kiss, tongue sliding against his. Dean nearly melted. The one thing he'd imagined over and over whenever his feelings became impossible to ignore. The reality was infinitely better.

When the kiss finally broke, neither of you moved very far. Your foreheads rested together, noses brushing. His eyes searched yours almost nervously, as though waiting for someone to tell him he'd imagined the whole thing. Instead, you smiled completely enamored. "Took you long enough." You whispered, your lips brushing his as you stole another quick kiss simply because you could. Dean let out a breathless laugh. "You mean," He searched your face in complete disbelief. "We could've been doing this the whole time?"

A sheepish grin spread across your face as you nodded. Dean stared at you for a long moment, then groaned dramatically. "God..." He dropped his forehead against your shoulder. "I really am such a clueless bastard." You laughed, the sound vibrating against his chest as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. "It's okay, I still love you." Dean practically tackled you into another kiss, finally hearing the words he'd been waiting for months to hear without knowing it. "God, I fucking love you too, babydoll." He muttered against your lips.

Finally. Finally. Finally.

Off to the side, Hannah bumped Garrett's shoulder with a knowing grin. "See you guys at Malone's?" Dean didn't even glance in their direction. "Sorry, Wellsy." His answer came automatically, one hand absentmindedly tracing circles against your back. "I've got a lot of lost time with my girl to make up for." Because, now that Dean had you, there was absolutely no way in hell he was letting you go anytime soon.

Though she held a wariness to her, the same one that you could feel deep within your bones the longer the day progressed. Jacaerys immediately reached out hands gripping yours, bringing your attention back to him, "We are going to the Gullet, and it is my wish you join us. We can secure victory with the Queen."

You blinked at him, once, twice, waiting for the moment you would wake up, because in what world was this reality. The imagine did not fade away like you were hoping only cause the unease starting to flow through you to grow.

"Jacaerys," you whispered. It sounded desperate, because that is what you felt. The fear of something happening to him, was overwhelming. His dragon was not that large, and could not handle much damage, if any at all.

"Vermax and…." You turned look to Baela, the same sense of fear for her filling you as well. You loved them both, you cared for them both and could not fathom having to deal with something happening to either, "Moondancer are both quite smaller…and the Queen did not wish for you—"

"So she should risk her own life?" he asked, cutting you off. The emotion was clear in his voice. He was scared. For his mother, for his queen, and he would do what it took to keep her safe. You both mirrored each other, frightened for another more than yourself.

You sighed, "That is not what I said…but this is treason. You are acting against her orders. She clearly did not wish for you to go into battle yourself. Either of you or she would have sent you," you tried to reason once more.

But he would not be persuaded, not from this, and you understood why. You truly did, but it did nothing to persuade you even further, only wanting to lock him in his own room to protect him like he had done to Rhaenyra.

He nodded knowing that you would stay here, and perhaps that was for the best. He took a step forward, cupping your cheek before your lips met each other. The kiss held a sense of frantic nature, the same one he very possessed.

You could not push down the growing pit in your belly, as his lips stayed to yours, longer then normal, lingering as if this was a just incase, which made it feel so, so, so much wore. He only pulled away when air could not be prolonged any longer.

"I would prefer you to stay here. It would give me a piece of mind knowing you are safe," he whispered, pulling away pressing a kiss to your forehead, before the heat of his body left you completely and you were alone in the hall.

Your hands shook in his absence, it was the very first thing you noticed, as you made your way out to the balcony. The windy air, smashing against your face as you stood in the chilly reality, watching, awaiting to see the two smalls dragons flying through the air.

And when they finally did, your hands shook more, your breathing picked up at the sense of dread that took over your entire body. This was wrong. Something about this felt very, very wrong.

Mayhaps it was the fact this was against the Queen's orders or simply that the fact that he could die, as this was war and no one was truly safe.

You stood there a moment watching the flapping of Vermax's smaller wings. He was quite tiny, compared to your own mount. Your mount who could handle war, who could withstand more injury then either Vermax or Moondancer.

The pit in your belly felt like a boulder, as you rang your hands together in an anxious manner, "Oh!" you sighed, bringing a hand down running it down your face as if you were trying to scrub away grime. As if your hands could truly pull away the sense of dread, growing larger by the second.

You glanced to the castle before looking back to your heart flying away with the man you loved. "Seven fucks! Vermithor!" The Dragon's roar of response could be heard through out Dragonstone, rattling through the walls as you sprinted to him not even bothering with your riding gear.

You could not let him go off alone, not to do this. You would not sit here being some damsel while he flew off to battle, with a dragon much smaller then your own. You should have went with him the offer arose. You should have known you would not be able to stay away.

As there was a simple fact of wherever he went you would follow. To Kingslanding to fight his claim of legitimacy, to treat with Lords,and now to battle.

Jacaerys entire plan had been thrown off once he had realized it was Rhaena, on Sheepstealer rather than a green rider. His large jaw snapped at his smaller dragon, and he just narrowly escaped it.

He wondered if this was the end. If he were to die from his step-sister's new claimed wild dragon. Vermax continued to quickly fly through the air as the other dragon tried to gain on them, and as each moment passed it seemed even more likely that this was to occur.

Then there was a loud roar through the air, and suddenly the wild dragon's attention turned to a new target. Large tan wings flapped through the air, as a bronze body flew between Vermax and the Sheepstealer.

This dragon was easily recognizable, "No," Jacaerys breathed, realizing it was Vermithor. It was you. "Fuck! No, no, no," he yelled.

"You are too low! Do not follow me!" you screamed, before taking up higher yourself. Vermithor, moving without even needing the instruction. He watched as your hands, wrapped tighter around your reigns, a sense of determination filling your face before you were gone.

"Vēzot, Vermax!" he commanded, snapping out of his daze, going higher, trying to remain to the object at hand, but his mind strayed watching the wild dragon follow after you closely.

You could hear Rhaena's sounds of protest to at her new claimed dragon, as he followed after you, clearly having no control over the wild dragon. That was not something that surprised you.

Though the dragon was younger than your own he had never been claimed, he never had spent a day being commanded by a real person rather doing as he pleased. He would not learn control in one day.

And the last place he needed to be was the battle field, especially as he could have coasted Jacaerys his life moments ago.

"Pālētēs."

Evade. He needed to evade the dragon, and he would no doubt get bored and fly off. You did not wish to kill the dragon, and harm Rhaena in the process. You cared for the girl, no matter how naive she clearly seemed to be in this moment.

Vermithor dropped down quickly toward the ships, as the wild dragon followed practically on his tail, before once more, the elder changed direction. Heading back up toward the sky. It seemed to do just the trick as flaming arrows flew through the air landing the hits on the wild dragon.

The beast let out a sound, before descending higher, and off toward the other direction away from your own dragon and yourself."Umbās, Vermithor!" you ordered, as you continued to tread in the sky, watching as Sheepstealer took Rhaena away from the battle itself, and you let out a shaky breath, before turning back to the Triarchy ships.

You watched as Vermax and Moondancer continued to burn the men, lowering the threat to the Velaryon fleet. Your dragon's large head as if sensing you, turned looking down to the water once more. He let out a sound, as if he were looking for permission, something that typically would have made you laugh, but not today.

"Angōs, Vermithor!"

You had barely made it onto the ground when arms wrapped around you, practically crushing you. Vermithor let out a sound of warning, but it died in his throat as he realized the man was no threat to you.

You stumbled, back slightly, but Jacaerys steadied you, much like he always did. It took only a moment before your own hands shots out wrapping around him as he pulled you closer to his chest.

Your dragons made sounds behind you, as Vermithor nudged Vermax playfully as if he was rubbing in saving his life. The younger let out a huff turning away as if he was an embarrassed tea getting teased by his father.

Finally the adrenaline began to fade, as the tears fell down your eyes, "You could have died. You almost died," you cried, your hands clutching into him further.

One of his hands moved to cradle the back of your head gently, "I am here, and I am alive," he assured you.

You both stayed like that for what seemed like forever, holding the other, ignoring the prying eyes watching the pair of you, before you finally began to make your way into the castle.

You did not make it far when you finally turned to him, your lips turned down in a deep frown, "If you ever pull shit like that again I will strangle you," you hissed, jabbing your finger into his chest harshly.

He laughed, and it was such a glorious sound. One that you had been so close to not hearing again. He raised his hands in surrender, "I would not dare to attempt to go anywhere without you again. I have learned my lesson," he assured you.

You nodded, though your face still held a frown, "Good. If you try to do so again I will quite literally have Vermithor hold Vermax down."

"Can he even do that?" he asked, tipping his head slightly, as a humor grin filled his lips.

"Do not look at me like that," you said, crossing your arms over your chest, "I am angry with you," you insisted, turning away from him.

He smirked, moving toward you slowly, as he used his finger, turning your chin toward him. You looked up at him, anger trying to remain on your face, but that proved harder the longer you stared at him, "I am sorry," he whispered.

"You will make it up to me?" you asked, raising a brow.

The Prince nodded eagerly, "Of course, ñuha gevie."

You stared at him a moment, finally your arms uncrossing. Your hand reached out wrapping around his doublet before you drugged him closer to you. He opened his mouth in question, but as your hand wrapped around the back of his neck.

He was not given a chance to speak before your mouth planted against his own. It was more intense then the one earlier. The frantic sense of two people who had almost had to be separated by death.

You did not want to pull away, even when your lungs burned begging for breath. Even as you could hear approaching steps and knew this was improper. You did not want this to end, as there was almost a reality where you would never be able to kiss him again.

You both heard a small cough, and finally you pulled away, but still did not acknowledge the presence, "Avy jorrāelan," you whispered to him.

"Avy jorrāelan," he repeated back without hesitation.

You nodded pulling away from him completely, a small smile on your lips. Then your eyes turned to Ser Lorent, and you had to suppress a laugh, "Well. I am going to bathe. If you survive your mother you are free to join," you declared, before you were moving down the halls, no doubt toward your chambers.

He froze now remembering that he had locked his mother in her room, "Oh, shit!" he groaned, knowing there was no chance he would be able to join you. He turned looking to the knight with a sigh mentally trying to prepare himself for what was to come.

high valyrian translations: Vēzot (up), Pālētēs (to evade), Umbās (wait/stay), Angōs (attack), ñuha gevie (my beauty), Avy jorrāelan (I love you)

jacaerys velaryon taglist: @witch-of-letters @miaoteen @xinyourdreamsx

house of the dragon taglist: @msmarvelknight @madefor-softerskies

general taglist: @xkatherinexo @sacha1slytherin @qardasngan @bl3ssedp0etry @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @someonehereisstupid @honeybylove @zealousdazementality @shinewarrior01 @shipperqueen93 @sw0zzle @dedicateeverythingtomilkshake @thorins-queen-of-erebor @hrh007 @leolionsthings @xostarrgirl @inturnipexplorer @umadirectioner @deltamoon666 @rotseria @exxotiic @jiminie-08

Then Harry had walked in, he didn't look rigid at all, his dark curls were entirely windswept from the London drizzle, and he was adjusting a slightly oversized jacket that looked like he’d borrowed it last minute, when his eyes scanned the crowded room, he caught you watching him, instead of giving you a competitive smirk, he had offered a remarkably warm, slightly goofy smile, navigated the maze of chairs, and dropped his backpack right next to yours. "Hi," he’d said softly, rubbing his palms against his jeans, “madhouse in here, innit? I’m Harry by the way”, there was an immediate, grounding lack of pretense about him, you smiled back, introducing yourself, and within minutes, the crushing weight of the audition had simply evaporated, running lines together in hushed whispers, you realized he wasn't trying to perform some stoic caricature of royalty, he genuinely cared about Jace’s emotional vulnerability, he matched your take on the script with an effortless chemistry that left you completely disarmed, now, standing outside the double doors of the main audition room after the casting assistant called both your names, Harry nudges your shoulder with his.

“don't stress" he whispers, his eyes warm, “we've got this, yeah?”

"You nervous?" you ask, teasingly raising an eyebrow.

“Absolutely terrified" he admits with a soft laugh, adjusting his collar, “which is great, because I'm pretty sure Jace feels terrified twenty four seven"

When the doors swing open, you walk in together, the room is vast, lined with high definition cameras and a long row of folding tables, behind them sit the showrunners, the casting directors, and Ryan Condal, they look exhausted, having spent days watching kids mimic fantasy tropes with deep voices and heavy, unnatural gestures.

"Welcome, both of you" Ryan says, offering an encouraging nod, “we’re jumping straight into scene three., for context Jacaerys has just discovered the crushing truth regarding his lineage and he’s spiraling, he’s furious, his pride is completely wounded... and your character is the only person on Dragonstone who can break through his walls and understand him. Whenever you're ready”, both of you swallowed with tension.

You and Harry took your positions on the taped X's in the center of the room, the red recording lights on the cameras blinked to life as harry closes his eyes for a single beat, when he opens them, the sweet, goofy boy from the hallway is gone, his posture straightens, but his shoulders carry a heavy, suffocating weight, his jaw is clenched so tightly a muscle ticks in his cheek, and his dark eyes burn with a raw mixture of teenage rage and profound hurt.

He begins pacing like a caged animal, reciting Jace's lines with a breathless, furious cadence. “let them whisper, then, let them call me whatever they dare in the dark, I am the eldest son of the rightful queen, and I will not sit by while they tear her name and mine to shreds" In previous reads with other actors, they had shouted the lines directly at you, puffing out their chests and turning the moment into a generic screaming match to show dominance, but you remembered the subtext you and Harry talked about outside, how Jace’s anger was just a desperate shield for his terror, and instead of matching his loud volume, you step directly into his path, forcing him to halt dead in his tracks.

“Stop pacing for a second….” you say, your voice dropping into a quiet, steady cadence that anchors the entire room, “let them speak their poison, let the lords of Westeros choke on their envy, you are a Velaryon, your blood is fire, a crown is not given by the whispers of old men, Jace. It is earned by the sacrifices of the one who wears it”, you gently tap his chest with your finger, right over his heart, Harry freezes, the raw intensity in your eyes catches him completely off guard, he doesn't just deliver his next line; he reacts to yours. 

For a long moment, the space between you crackles with an electric, unscripted stillness, behind the folding tables, the executives hold their breath, nobody even dares to shift in their chairs, harry’s chest heaves under his  jacket, his breath hitching slightly as his dark eyes search yours, drinking in the unwavering calm you’re offering him in the middle of his storm. 

He shakes his head slightly, a harsh, humorless laugh escaping his throat that wasn't in the sides at all, “you speak of crowns as if they are ours to take”, he says, stepping even closer, his voice dropping an octave, raspy with unshed tears, “tell me how… how can I stand before a dragon, how can I lead an army when every lord in the realm looks at my face and knows I am a bastard? they laugh at me behind closed doors”, you could feel the fear radiating out of him, when you grabbed his arm he tensed.

“then make them bow before they can laugh”, you answer without hesitation, stepping toe to toe with him, refusing to let him retreat into his own dark thoughts, “let them doubt your hair or your eyes, but never, and listen to me...” you grabbed his face, so softly he thought he imagined it “…never let them make you doubt who you are. Stop trying to face everything on your own, you are not alone in this fortress Jace, I am here”

Step by step, the anger visibly drains from his posture, leaving behind a heartbreaking vulnerability. He takes a half step closer, closing the physical distance under the harsh studio lights. His breathing is shallow, and on pure, unscripted instinct he reaches out, his fingers brushing against your wrist, a silent, desperate plea for grounding., when he speaks, his voice cracks with genuine emotion, “they… they look at me and they see a lie... and sometimes... sometimes I look in the mirror, and what if they're right my love? What if I am just a lie?”

“then do not look in the mirror…” you whisper, closing the remaining space between you until your shoulders touch, your eyes filled with emotion as your face acted on its own, your hand moved on its own, locking your fingers firmly with his “…and come to me, I cannot promise to change how you feel, but I can make you see who you are”.

“and what if I fail?" Harry whispers back, unscripted, his forehead leaning down toward yours until your breath mingles in the quiet room, his eyes flicker down to your lips for a split second before locking back onto yours with a desperate, beautiful intensity, “what if I tear everything down?"

“then we can rebuild it together”, you answer instantly, the words spilling out completely naturally, as if you'd been waiting your whole life to say them to him, “burn the world if you must, Jacaerys, but I will not let you burn yourself”, the silence that follows your sentence is absolute, for three long seconds, neither of you moved, entirely locked in an intensity that makes the modern casting room feel like a candle lit chamber in Dragonstone. Nobody in the room dares to cut the scene, completely mesmerized by the sheer weight of the moment hanging between you two.

“and... cut" Ryan Condal says softly, breaking the spell like a gentle tap on glass, behind the table, no one is typing, the casting director slowly lowers her pen, looking at Ryan with wide eyes and raised eyebrows, the director sits back, a massive smile breaking across his face as he lets out a quiet laugh and shakes his head in disbelief.

“where on earth did that come from?”, Ryan asks, leaning forward on his elbows and staring between the two of you in utter awe, “guide me for a bit, uhm the physical contact, the improvisation… who told you to take it there?"

"No one, sir”, Harry stammers out, his face flushing red as he rubs the back of his neck, instantly breaking character, “we just... outside in the hall, we were talking about how terrified Jace really is under all that anger, and it just felt like what they would say to each other"

"It was pure instinct”, you add softly, catching your breath as you look over at Harry.

Ryan exchanges a stunned look with the director, tapping his pen against the table, “Mhm instinct like that is rare, very rare, you two didn't just read the scene, you completely rewrote the energy in this room, bam just like that”

"Well, well” the director says, "Sarah, I think we can officially cancel the rest of the afternoon’s auditions, don’t you think?, Kids, that wasn't a chemistry read, that was lightning in a damn bottle”, Harry slowly blinks, the heavy character melting away instantly as his ears turn a brilliant shade of red, he looks down at his shoes, then over at you, an ecstatic grin breaking across his face.

"The way you two moved together, trusting each other's rhythm... oh man you can't teach that" the casting director adds, making a massive mark next to both your names, “you two are literally them"

As you walk out of the casting office a few minutes later, the adrenaline is still humming through your veins, Harry turns to you in the quiet corridor, hands shoved deep into his pockets, his eyes shining, “so…” he murmurs, his voice laced with that brilliant, cheeky wit, “…I guess that means we're going to be spending a lot of time together"

“looks like it my prince," you smile back, your heart doing a strange, entirely unscripted flip in your chest, neither of you had any idea then that the intense connection that stunned a room full of executives was going to completely redefine the next few years of your lives, both on top of dragons, and off.

Three long years later… (idk how to do time skips im sorry)

"If you pull my cloak one more time, I swear to God, Harry, I’m telling the directors you’re sabotaging me" you whisper, leaning close so the lavalier microphones tucked under your heavy leather costume don't pick it up.

"It’s not my fault!" Harry whispers back aggressively, though the massive smirk on his face completely gives him away, “this tunic weighs like forty pounds and the velvet on your shoulder is practically begging to be grabbed, It’s for character accuracy babe, Jace is possessive"

"Jace is a dramatic menace and so are you" you laugh, ducking out of his reach as the hair and makeup team scurries onto the set to fix a stray lock of your hair.

You two where currently deep in the production of Season 3, sitting on a massive, foam-rendered battlements set in Wales, season 1 had been a blur of nervous rehearsals, learning how to walk in heavy medieval boots, and late night study sessions in hotel rooms over cold pizza, dissecting character arcs. Season 2 brought longer hours, heavier emotional scenes, and a realization that neither of you was acting anymore when Jace and your character looked at each other like the rest of the world was burning down around them.

"Alright, and… we are rolling" the assistant director calls out, echoing across the chilly studio stage, “quiet on set! and... action!" The playful banter instantly vanishes. Harry shifts his weight, his posture hardening into the prince of Dragonstone. The wind machines kick up, blowing fake smoke and ash across the stone floor, you step up beside him at the edge of the set's ledge, looking out over the green screen that will eventually be rendered into a stormy sea.

"The fleet sails at dawn," Harry says, his voice carrying that grounded, low cadence he’d mastered over the years, he turns to you, his eyes dark with the heavy knowledge of what’s coming, "If I go to the Gullet... if I do not return..."

“do not… do not finish that phrase”, you interrupt taking his hand, your thumbs brushing over his knuckles just like you did in that very first audition room, “do not speak of loss before the blades are even drawn, you will return to me, Jacaerys, that is not a request”, he looks at your joined hands, then up at your eyes, the camera creeps in close, catching the quiet, agonizing tenderness between you, for a second, the script falls away, the way his breath hitches, the subtle soften in his gaze, that’s not Jace looking at a fellow noble, that’s Harry, your harry, utterly besotted with you, completely forgetting that eighty crew members are watching.

He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours, whispering the scripted line with a sincerity that makes your skin tingle, “always"

"Cut! Oh so beautiful, that’s a wrap on the battlements sequence"

The set bursts into noise, technicians start moving lighting rigs, wind machines spin down, and the heavy atmosphere vanishes, Harry lets out a long breath, rolling his shoulders back “sweet mother of jesus, my lower back is destroyed today”, he groans softly, though he doesn't let go of your hand, instead he tugs you gently toward the side of the stage away from the chaos, "How did that feel? was it alright?"

“Come on you know It was perfect H”, you say reaching up to pick a stray bit of fake ash out of his dark curls, “you were brilliant, very brooding, very tragic"

"I aim to please" he winks, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against him behind a wooden prop wall, he tilts his head, kissing you softly on the lips, a slow, sweet kiss that has nothing to do with Westeros or showrunners.

When he pulls back, he’s grinning that same goofy, warm smile from the audition room three years ago, “I love that I get to do this with you, seriously, best job in the world"

"Yeah? even with the forty pound tunic and both of us dying in the next scene?”

“Yes ma’am even with the dying” he chuckles, resting his chin on your shoulder, “though I wouldn't complain if we wrapped early so we could go grab proper food, I’m literally starving”, he pressed his forehead against your shoulder.

"We have two more scenes today drama queen”, you remind him, tapping his nose. 

You're so bossy, you know that?" Harry sighs, though he's grinning ear to ear as he buries his face briefly into the crook of your neck, taking a deep breath of your perfume before stepping back, “two more scenes, then food, real food, not craft services fruit platters"

“deal" you smile straightening his leather collar that had gotten twisted during the scene. “now come on, let's get back before the director thinks we ran off"

Later that evening, after the long, grueling shoot wrapped and the heavy costumes were finally shed, you both found yourselves sitting in the back of a black car heading back toward your hotel in Cardiff, the rain was drumming a steady, rhythmic pattern against the tinted windows. Harry sat close beside you, his long legs stretched out, his fingers comfortably laced with yours, he looked so tired, the faint dark circles under his eyes proof of the intense filming schedule, but his expression was entirely peaceful, he squeezed your hand gently, looking over at you in the dim light of the passing streetlamps.

“remember when we first got the call that we both booked it?" he asked softly, a nostalgic smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, “my mum literally started crying in the kitchen, and I was just sitting there on the floor thinking, ‘right, don't mess this up, you've got to act with that brilliant girl from the audition room again'"

You laughed, resting your head on his shoulder, "You really thought I was brilliant?"

"Are you joking? You completely ran that room”, he said, turning his head to press a warm kiss against your hair, I knew right then, honestly, even before Jace and your character had their slow burn on paper, I was already totally done for"

"You're so dramatic Collett," you teased, though your heart warmed, leaning further into his side.

“just honest dear…” he murmured, his arm tightening around your waist as the car glided smoothly through the wet streets, “…just honest”.

Not arrogant. Never that. Just settled, in the way people are when they've already survived the worst version of a question and come out the other side of it.

He hadn't always been that way, though.

He remembered being eight, sitting on the floor of his bedroom with a split lip and dirt still ground into the knees of his trousers, shoulders shaking with the effort of not crying. He remembered the door opening, and quickly scrubbing his sleeve across his face, and how his mother had known immediately anyway.

I didn't lose, he'd told her.

I never asked if you did.

He'd tried to explain it that some boy at school had said Jace couldn't possibly be Laenor's son, not really, not when he didn't look a thing like him. Rhaenyra had gone very still for a moment, as if deciding how much truth a person could hold.

Then she'd taken his small hands in hers and told him the truth anyway. That his biological father had been a man named Harwin Strong, who had loved him very much, but who had passed away before Jace and his brothers were even old enough to properly remember his face. That Laenor was still his father in every way that mattered, because Laenor was the one who'd stayed awake through nightmares, who'd taught him to swim because he was terrified of the deep end, who had looked at him the day he was born and said, simply, he's beautiful.

Blood doesn't make a father, she'd told him, cupping his tiny face in both hands. Love does.

He had believed her. He still did, thirteen years later. The whispers about his features, brown curls where there should have been silver, ordinary eyes where there should have been that unmistakable Valyrian violet, had eventually faded into something he barely registered anymore.

Or so he'd thought, until the afternoon you brought home a magazine.

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

You'd arrived at his flat practically glowing, a glossy issue of Rogue clutched against your chest like you'd just won something.

"I finally found it," you announced, dropping onto the sofa beside him without any warning, already flipping it open across your lap.

Jace looked up from his laptop, smiling before he'd even fully processed what you'd said. "Hm?"

"The newest issue. My favourite actress is on the cover."

You talked while you flipped through the pages, filling the room with easy, unhurried chatter about filming locations in Italy and a rescue dog she'd apparently just adopted and a dress you thought was, in your exact words, criminally good. Jace didn't follow half of it but he liked it anyway, liked the sound of your voice more than the content of what it was saying, liked watching your face light up over things he'd never have cared about on his own.

Then you gasped.

"Oh, I didn't know they interviewed him too."

He glanced over, more out of habit than curiosity, and felt something in his chest go quietly, unpleasantly tight.

A full page spread of his uncle Aegon looked back at him. Expensive tailored suit. Silver blond hair styled to look effortless, which it absolutely was not. Pale lilac eyes catching the studio lighting like the camera had been built specifically to flatter him.

Young Entrepreneur of the Year, the headline read, and privately Jace thought that if anyone in that family had actually earned the title, it was Aemond, who did the real work while his older brother smiled for photographers and accepted the credit.

You didn't know any of that, of course. You just kept scanning the article, murmuring something about how ridiculously photogenic he was, how well that whole family photographed in general, the lighting, the styling, all of it.

Jace stared at the page. Silver hair. Purple eyes. The exact same features that ran through his mother, through Laenor, through nearly everyone he'd ever sat across a dinner table with.

Everyone except him and his brothers.

Alicent's voice surfaced in his memory before he could stop it, unbidden and unwelcome. Such a shame, isn't it. The poor boy didn't inherit any of the family's beauty.

He hadn't thought about that sentence in years. He resented that it had apparently just been waiting for him.

Would someone like her rather have someone who looked like that?

He hated the thought the second it appeared. Hated himself a little for thinking it at all. Before he'd properly decided to do anything, his hand had already reached over, closed the magazine, and sent it flying across the room.

You blinked. "...Did you just throw away my magazine?"

"Maybe."

"I paid 1 silver stag for that."

"I know."

"You just launched it across the room."

"I did."

"Why?"

He opened his mouth but nothing useful came out, because what was he supposed to say. Sorry, I got irrationally jealous of my own uncle because a decade old insecurity just woke up without warning.

"...I panicked," he settled on.

"You panicked… at journalism?"

He nodded, solemnly, as though this were a reasonable answer.

You stared at him for a long moment before you burst out laughing, calling him a weirdo, asking if he'd genuinely been jealous of glossy paper. His ears went pink immediately, which only made you laugh harder. He denied it. You didn't believe him. Eventually you crawled across the sofa, nudged his shoulder with yours, and pinched his cheek.

"My pretty boy," you said.

His heart stumbled slightly. "...Really?"

"Jace. I've been dating you for months. I think that answer should be obvious."

You kissed the corner of his mouth and went back to your magazine, entirely unbothered, and the knot in his chest loosened. Not all the way. Just enough that he could ignore it for a while.

He didn't know yet that it wouldn't be the last time.

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

The real trouble started, as most things in that family did, because Rhaenyra forgot to mention one small detail.

"Mother invited us for dinner," Jace said, grabbing his keys off the counter. "Just a quiet evening."

"I'm finally meeting your family properly?"

"You've met Luke and Joffrey."

"They kidnapped me for bubble tea. That barely counts."

"They like you."

"They interrogated me about how I really like you or was it the money."

Jace nearly dropped his keys. "...They what."

"They're sweet," you said, slipping your hand into his as you headed for the door, laughing at his expression. "Terrors, but sweet and making sure I wasn’t some gold digger."

The drive over was easy, your hand resting in his the whole way, music low through the speakers. Neither of you suspected a thing, right up until Jace opened the penthouse door and his smile simply vanished.

"...Oh."

You peered around him and froze.

It wasn't a quiet family dinner. It was the ENTIRE FUCKING family. Viserys settled comfortably in an armchair with a cup of tea. Daemon sprawled across the sofa like he'd personally paid for it. Baela and Rhaena setting the table. Helaena curled by the window with her cat in her lap. Luke and Joffrey wrestling over the remote. Aemond by the balcony doors, absorbed in his phone. Aegon stealing appetizers straight from the kitchen counter. Otto (who the fuck even invited him?) deep in conversation with Viserys about something political. And Alicent, wine glass in hand, wearing the expression of a woman who very much wished she were somewhere, anywhere, else.

"I swear to you," Jace whispered, "I had no idea."

You squeezed his hand. "I know."

"You do?"

"You have the worst poker face I have ever seen in my life."

Relief crossed his face so fast it was almost funny. "Thank you."

Before either of you could retreat back toward the elevator, which you were both, quietly, considering, a voice cut through the apartment like a siren.

"OLDER BROTHER JACE IS HERE!" Joffrey bellowed, pointing dramatically at the two of you. "AND HE BROUGHT HIS GIRLFRIEND!"

Every single head turned at once.

The silence that followed was the kind you could feel in your jaw. You raised your free hand in a small, painfully awkward wave.

"...Hello- Uh- Hi."

Nobody spoke. You considered, briefly and seriously, whether the floor might simply open and swallow you.

Then Rhaenyra blinked, and her whole face transformed. She crossed the room so quickly you barely had time to brace before she'd taken both your hands in hers.

"So you're the lovely girl," she said warmly. "It's wonderful to finally meet you. Jacaerys talks about you far more than he'd ever admit."

"Mother."

"You do," Luke chimed in helpfully.

"Constantly," Joffrey agreed.

"He smiled at his phone for ten minutes yesterday," Luke added. "It was embarrassing."

"It was disgusting," Aegon called from the kitchen, not even looking up from the appetizers.

Jace pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose. "I'm leaving."

"No you're not," Daemon said lazily, without opening his eyes. "You brought entertainment."

Before Jace could formulate a defense, Baela had already appeared, looping her arm through yours. "There she is. So this is the famous girlfriend."

Rhaena arrived a half second later. Helaena drifted over more quietly, studying your earrings with real interest.

"I like your earrings," she said.

"Oh, thank you."

"They're little stars. They remind me of the night sky. I like stars."

"I noticed," you said, smiling, and Helaena looked pleased in a way that felt like a small, private victory.

Before you'd fully registered what was happening, you had been deposited onto the sofa between Baela and Rhaena, and the questions began arriving from every direction at once.

How did you two meet. Who confessed first. Who kissed who first. Has he written you poetry.

Across the room, Jace groaned. "Oh no."

"Save yourself," Luke advised solemnly. "There is no saving anyone once those three start."

You laughed, a little nervously, and did your best to answer everything while Baela stole your phone to look through your photos and Rhaena gasped theatrically at something on it. Meanwhile Jace had slipped, almost against his will, into older brother mode, standing between Aegon and Luke to prevent whatever low grade argument was brewing between them, even though privately he wanted to throttle Aemond himself for something said twenty minutes earlier that he'd already half forgotten.

A part of you, watching all of this unfold, felt faintly like you'd wandered into a room full of supermodels who happened to also be a family. Every single one of them was, infuriatingly, beautiful.

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

Rhaenyra found you again not long after, this time in the kitchen, gently but firmly informing you that guests were not permitted to help with dinner.

"I promise I'm capable of chopping vegetables without losing a finger," you said, already reaching for the knife regardless.

"That's not the point."

"I don't feel like a guest."

Apparently that was the correct answer, because five minutes later the two of you were standing shoulder to shoulder at the counter anyway, Rhaenyra sliding a tray into the oven while you worked through a pile of peppers beside her.

"You know," she said, glancing fondly toward the dining room, where Luke was currently attempting to balance three dinner rolls on top of Joffrey's head, "I've been trying to get my boys to help me cook for years."

"They don't?"

"Oh, they try." She laughed. "They're just enthusiastic."

"That's a diplomatic way of putting it."

"They have good hearts, though." Her expression softened as she watched them. Then, with no real change in tone, as though she were asking about the weather: "So. What do you see in my eldest?"

You nearly choked on your own laugh. "Oh."

"Don't 'oh' me. I'd genuinely like to know."

You looked through the doorway. Jace was still stationed between Aegon and Luke, hands raised placatingly, trying to referee an argument that had apparently escalated to include a butter knife.

"I don't know," you said slowly, and then, more honestly, "everything just feels easy with him. I've never had to pretend to be anything I'm not. He listens. He remembers little things, if I mention I like a certain chocolate once, it just shows up on my desk during exam week without me asking. He always walks on the side closest to the road. He sends me good morning messages every single day, even when he saw me the night before. He pretends he doesn't like horror movies, even though I know he secretly does, because he always asks if we can watch another one right after."

A fond laugh slipped out of you before you could stop it.

"And I've never once doubted that he loves me."

Rhaenyra had gone quiet beside you, her eyes suspiciously bright. "That sounds like my Jacaerys," she said finally, smiling. "He gets that from his father."

You opened your mouth to ask which one she meant, but before you could, Viserys wandered into the kitchen, and the question dissolved into the next moment before you'd found the words.

"There you are," he said kindly.

You straightened instinctively. "Mr. Viserys-"

He waved the title away with mild exasperation. "Oh, enough of that. Viserys is perfectly acceptable."

"It doesn't feel right."

"Then Grandfather."

You blinked. "...Excuse me?"

"If you're important to Jacaerys," he said, patting your shoulder gently, "then you're important to me."

Something in your chest went warm and slightly overwhelmed. "Thank you. Grandfather."

He beamed, patted your head affectionately on his way past, and wandered back toward the dining room looking thoroughly satisfied with himself.

Across the room, Alicent watched the entire exchange over the rim of her wine glass, her mouth pressing into a thin, unreadable line.

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

Dinner was chaos, in the fondest possible sense of the word.

It started with Luke and Joffrey arguing over the garlic bread, which somehow evolved into Aegon stealing half the basket, which somehow became Aemond calmly threatening to stab his brother with a butter knife.

"I wouldn't actually stab you," Aemond said, sighing. "It'd be unhygienic."

"See," Aegon grinned. "He loves me."

"I tolerate your existence."

"That's practically affection in your language."

Jace pinched the bridge of his nose. "Can we please have one family dinner where nobody threatens bodily harm?"

Daemon didn't even look up from his wine. "No."

"Fair enough," Jace muttered, and you had to cover your mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

He glanced at you across the table, and the sight of you smiling seemed to visibly loosen something in his shoulders. Without quite thinking about it, his foot found yours under the table. You nudged him back.

Baela noticed immediately. "They're flirting under the table."

"We're sitting right here," Jace said flatly.

"You think we don't notice?"

"We don't."

"You literally just smiled at each other over touching feet."

"We did not."

"They're adorable," Helaena offered dreamily.

"They're embarrassing," Aegon corrected.

Dessert arrived, and for a few merciful minutes, the table went quiet, cake apparently commanding more loyalty than gossip. Then Daemon set his fork down with a particular stillness that Jace recognized immediately as trouble.

"So," Daemon said.

"No," Jace said.

"I haven't even asked anything."

"I know that tone."

"Do you?"

"Yes."

Daemon leaned back in his chair, entirely unbothered. "So. When's the wedding?"

Jace inhaled a piece of cake at exactly the wrong moment and doubled over, coughing. You nearly dropped your fork.

"Uncle, we've only been together a few months."

"So? I was younger."

"We're twenty one."

"Your mother had Lucerys by your age," Daemon pointed out, entirely too pleased with himself.

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes so hard it was audible. "And look how that turned out."

Daemon simply laughed at his nieces suffering, placing a hand over his heart.

"I was aiming lower," Rhaenyra said sweetly, and the whole table dissolved into laughter, even Jace, some of the tension finally easing out of his shoulders.

Then Alicent spoke, calm and almost thoughtful, as though continuing a conversation no one else had realized was happening.

"I suppose there are advantages to waiting," she said, cutting neatly into her dessert without looking up. "After all, when choosing a life partner, appearance does matter. Especially when one hopes for beautiful children." A small, polite pause. "There are certain features that tend to remain within Valyrian blood. It would be a shame to lose them."

The table went completely still.

You frowned, not immediately understanding, but you felt Jace go rigid beside you, watched the color drain slowly from his face as his hand tightened around his fork hard enough that his knuckles went white.

"Alicent," Rhaenyra said, and her voice had turned to ice.

"I simply made an observation."

"It was unnecessary."

"Am I wrong?"

That was it. Jace's hands hit the table hard enough to rattle the plates, his chair scraping violently backward as he stood. He didn't look at anyone. He simply walked out, and by the time you'd scrambled up and mumbled an apology to the table, the elevator doors were already sliding shut behind him.

"There is absolutely nothing for you to apologize for," Rhaenyra said quickly, gently, but you were already moving, grabbing your bag and hurrying after him, catching the elevator just before it closed completely.

The ride down was silent. His hands were trembling, barely, at his sides. You reached for his sleeve. He didn't pull away, but he didn't respond either, and you decided, wisely, to simply stand beside him and wait.

Whatever this was, you understood by now that it had very little to do with a single comment at dinner.

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

The drive home was quiet in the wrong way. Not the comfortable silence you two usually shared, the kind filled with idle hand holding at red lights and half finished sentences. This one sat heavy in the car, pressing against your ribs.

Jace's knuckles never once loosened on the steering wheel. You looked at him more than once. Each time, his jaw was tight, his eyes fixed straight ahead, his expression carefully, deliberately unreadable.

You thought about speaking, several times. Each time, something told you he needed the silence first.

When he finally parked outside your building, neither of you moved for a long moment. Then he climbed out, and the driver's door shut harder than he'd clearly intended, the sound echoing through the parking garage. You flinched. He closed his eyes immediately.

"...Sorry."

Even angry, even shaking slightly with whatever he was holding in, he still walked around to your side. Still opened your door. Still waited until you'd stepped out before he let it close.

You offered him a small smile. He couldn't quite return it.

The walk upstairs was just as quiet. Keys jingling. The lock clicking open. You slipped your shoes off by the entrance and settled onto the sofa. He didn't sit. He started pacing instead, kitchen to living room and back, one hand buried in his curls, the other rubbing restlessly at the back of his neck.

You'd seen him stressed before. Exam weeks. Presentation deadlines. The time Luke had nearly set off the fire alarm attempting to make grilled cheese. Never quite like this.

"...Jace."

He hummed, distracted, not stopping. "Mhm."

"Jace." Firmer this time.

He stopped mid step. Turned, slowly. "...What?"

The sharpness in his own voice seemed to surprise him as much as it did you. His face fell almost instantly. "...Sorry."

"I'm not angry at you."

"I know." He dragged a hand over his face. "I'm sorry."

You stood, crossing the room slowly. "What happened tonight?"

"Nothing."

"Jace."

"It was just Alicent."

"No." You shook your head gently. "I know that's not it. You don't storm out over one rude comment. You've dealt with comments like that your whole life. So what actually happened?"

He looked away, toward the window, toward anywhere that wasn't you.

"You don't have to protect me from it," you said quietly.

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm fine."

"You've been pacing for ten minutes."

"I'm thinking."

"You're spiralling.”

"I am not spiralling."

"You threw my magazine across the room because I complimented a photoshoot," you said, and watched him blink, caught off guard.

"...You still remembered that."

"I remember everything."

Silence stretched between you, longer this time. Jace finally walked into the kitchen and braced both hands against the island, his head hanging low. You followed, standing close enough that your shoulder nearly touched his, and rested your hand gently over his.

His fingers twitched beneath your palm.

"...Talk to me."

He swallowed hard. When he finally lifted his head to look at you, the anger had drained out of him completely. What remained, underneath it, was fear. Raw and unfamiliar, a version of him you'd genuinely never seen before.

"Do you," he started, voice barely above a whisper, "do you really want to be with me?"

You frowned. "...What?"

He laughed, short and humourless. "Stupid question. I know how it sounds." His hands moved helplessly, searching for words that weren't quite arriving fast enough. "I've never cared. At least, I thought I hadn't. My whole life, people have looked at my family. My mother. My father. My uncles. My cousins. And then they look at me, and they don't even have to say anything. I already know."

He let out a breath that shook slightly on its way out.

"I don't have silver hair. I don't have purple eyes. I don't look like them. And tonight, when Alicent said it, I couldn't stop thinking. What if she's right. What if you deserve someone who actually looks like he belongs in this family."

Before another word could leave him, you stepped forward, placed both hands on his face, and covered his mouth.

"...Mm?"

You stared at him, entirely unimpressed. "Wow. I always thought I was the yapper in this relationship. You are giving me serious competition."

The confusion on his face cracked, just barely, into something almost like a laugh.

"I am not finished," you said, and he nodded obediently, waiting until you lowered your hand.

"The absolute nonsense that just came out of your mouth might genuinely be the stupidest thing I have ever heard in my life."

"...Excuse me?"

"You heard me." You poked him firmly in the chest. "Absolute. Poppycock."

"What does that word even mean?”

"It felt appropriate."

Despite himself, the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

You folded your arms. "So. You think you're not handsome because you don't have silver hair."

"That's not exactly-"

"And purple eyes."

"I-“

"And because you don't look like the rest of your family."

He sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "When you say it out loud, it does sound a little ridiculous."

"A little?"

"...Very."

"Good." You reached for both of his hands before he could think about retreating again. "Now answer me something. If I woke up tomorrow with silver hair and purple eyes, would I suddenly be more beautiful to you?"

His answer came so fast it nearly overlapped your question. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because you're already beautiful as you are.”

"No matter what?"

He squeezed your hands. "No matter what."

"So if I stayed exactly the way I am…”

"I'd still think you're the most beautiful girl in every room I've ever walked into." Jace continued.

You smiled softly. "Exactly. So why," you asked gently, "are you judging yourself by a standard you'd never once judge me by? You don't look at me and wish I had silver hair. You don't wish I had purple eyes. You don't wish I looked more Valyrian."

He shook his head slowly. "I've never once thought that."

"Because you love me."

"...Yes."

"And I love you," you said. "You don't need silver hair for me to think you're handsome. You don't need purple eyes. You certainly don't need to look like Aegon." A small laugh escaped you. "Thank God, honestly."

That, finally, pulled a real laugh out of him, quiet but genuine.

"I happen to like your curly brown hair," you continued, reaching up to run your fingers through it. "I like your freckles. I like the little scar on your chin from when Luke hit you with a cricket bat, which he insists to this day was an accident."

"He maintains his innocence."

"He was absolutely aiming for you."

"He denies it."

"He's lying."

Jace chuckled, some of the tightness finally leaving his shoulders. You cupped his cheek gently.

"I like your smile. I like how your eyes crinkle when you laugh. I like that your nose scrunches up when you're concentrating on something. I like that your hair sticks up every morning because you refuse to dry it properly."

By now he couldn't quite meet your eyes, his cheeks warming visibly.

"And," you said softly, "I like that you're kind. That you remember every little thing I tell you. That you've never once made me feel like I was too much. You listen. You care. You love so quietly that people don't always notice it, but I do. Every single day."

His eyes had begun to shine, suspiciously bright.

"So don't you dare stand there and tell me I deserve someone else," you said, tapping his chest gently. "I already found exactly who I wanted. Not because of what you look like. Because of who you are. And if I had to choose all over again, I would still choose the ridiculously handsome boy standing in front of me."

That was what finally broke him. He stepped forward so suddenly you barely had time to react before his arms wrapped tightly around you, his face pressing into the curve of your neck like he was trying to memorize the shape of you against him. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, one hand sliding into his hair, and felt him exhale, one long, shaking breath, like he'd been holding it in for years without realizing it.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled into your shoulder.

"What are you apologizing for?"

"I don't know." He laughed weakly. "I think I've just spent so long pretending it never bothered me. It did. So when Alicent said it again tonight, I believed her."

You pulled back just enough to look at him properly.

"No," you said. "You believed the frightened little boy who got teased on the playground. You didn't believe Alicent. You just forgot what your mum told you."

"Blood doesn't make a father," you said quietly. "Love does."

His breath caught. "You remembered that."

"Of course I remembered. You told me that story."

"You really do remember everything."

"I do."

You brushed a stray curl off his forehead. "And your mum was right. You are loved beyond measure."

He closed his eyes, and this time, when he leaned into your touch, it wasn't because he needed convincing anymore. It was because he'd finally, fully embraced himself.

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

Later that night, the two of you lay tangled together beneath your duvet, though tangled was perhaps too generous a word, since Jace had somehow managed to occupy roughly ninety percent of the available space, his head resting against your chest, one arm locked securely around your waist. He wore the most spectacular pout you had ever seen on a grown man.

"Feeling better?" you asked.

A muffled noise, which you chose to interpret as yes.

"You know," you said thoughtfully, "I think there's a very easy solution to your whole crisis."

He looked up, immediately and correctly suspicious. "...I don't like that sentence."

"You could always dye your hair."

Silence.

"Platinum blonde," you continued sweetly.

Jace stared at you, utterly betrayed. "I'm sorry?"

"You heard me. I think it'd suit you."

"It absolutely would not."

"We could get you purple contacts too."

His eyes widened in genuine horror. "You wound me."

"I think you'd slay."

"Do not say slay while I am emotionally vulnerable," he gasped, and you burst into laughter, unable to help yourself.

"I'm serious."

"I'm sorry."

"No, you're not."

"I'm a little sorry."

"You're enjoying this far too much."

"I really am," he admitted, and then his eyes narrowed, that mischievous glint returning that you'd learned to be wary of.

"You know what," he said.

"...What?"

"I've decided."

"No."

"I no longer want sympathy."

"...You don't?"

"No. I've decided you deserve punishment. For crimes against your boyfriend."

"You're being dramatic."

"I think I'm being perfectly reasonable."

He lunged before you could brace yourself, and you shrieked, dissolving almost immediately into helpless laughter as his fingers found your sides. "NO! Jace!"

"This is what happens," he declared between your laughter, "when you suggest I bleach my hair!"

"I'M SORRY!"

"I don't believe you!"

"I TAKE IT BACK!"

"You called me slay!"

"I DIDN'T CALL YOU SLAY, I IMPLIED IT! AND YOU STILL SLAY!”

"That's worse!"

He finally relented, collapsing back against the pillows beside you, both of you breathless, your sides aching from laughing. After a moment, he reached over and found your hand in the dark, lacing his fingers through yours, lifting your joined hands to press a slow, lingering kiss against your knuckles.

"So," he said quietly.

"So?"

"...Thank you."

"For what?"

His thumb traced absentminded circles over the back of your hand. "For choosing me."

You didn't answer with words. You leaned over instead, pressed one soft kiss to his forehead, another to the corner of his mouth, and finally rested your forehead gently against his.

"There was never anyone else I wanted," you whispered.

And for the first time all night, Jacaerys Velaryon smiled without a single trace of doubt left in it.

⬩➤ Want to read more? Check out my MASTERLIST!

Family dinners were always perilous events.

Usually you would sit back beside your sisters, content to observe the chaos unfolding around you. Your mother and father laughed over brimming cups of wine, a crown nestled amongst your silver curls. Across the table Alicent watched with lips pressed into a smile that never quite reached her eyes.

Your uncles would drink and complain, Aegon’s words growing harsher the deeper into the bottle he fell. While your brothers would watch on, hands curled around their swords.

But tonight the air seemed thicker.

From the moment you had entered, Jacaery’s arm in yours, you had caught the attention of Aegon.

There was something feline about the way he watched you, his eyes trailing across your body, then to Jace. He remained fixed as Jace pulled out your chair and pressed a lingering kiss to your temple before walking to the other side of the table and sitting down beside Lucerys.

As dinner was served you kept catching Aegon’s eyes, no matter what you did, or said. He was there, smiling like he knew something you didn’t.

“How comes the wedding planning, sweet cousin?” Aegon asked once your plates were empty and your wine glasses had been refilled.

“It is a long process, uncle.” You replied, meeting his gaze, “As I’m sure you remember.” You took a sip of wine, pulse quickening when a wicked smile drew upon his lips.

“Tell me, princess, does it frustrate you? Sharing a castle with your betrothed but having to… keep your hands to yourself?” He said, tilting his head.

The chatter at the table had hushed, all eyes were on you. Heat began to well beneath your skin, shame rippling down your spine.

“We are doing okay.” You say, daring to glance over at Jace.

He was burning.

His eyes had been swallowed by darkness, the sharp curve of his jaw locked tight.

You wanted to reach for him, but you knew that would only spur Aegon on.

“You know, I thought I saw something interesting in the gardens the other night…” He trailed off, now turning to Jace, “But, it was so dark I could have been imagining things.”

“Had you indulged in the bottle that night, uncle? We all know that you have a tendency to dramatise things once the wine reaches your head.” Jace said, his lips curled back in a snarl.

Beside you Rhaena grabbed your hand.

“Hm,” Aegon hummed, “What a pretty sight I conjured up. My sweet cousin on her…”

“Enough!” Jacaerys snapped, standing from his seat, the chair sliding across the floor with a harsh groan. “You will not speak of my betrothed in such a manner!” His voice rang against the stone walls, “She is your future queen. You will address her with the respect she is due.”

The room was silent, only the faint sound of wicks burning and the wind outside permeating the room. From her small throne, your mother had gone very still.

Bile swirled in your stomach.

“Your spirit shall be your guide, darling girl.” Your mother used to say, running a brush through your hair, “But you should be mindful of the recklessness that it brings.”

Reckless, reckless, reckless.

You had done this.

You and your reckless wanting heart.

Every stolen kiss. Every lingering touch. Every moment you had taken for granted, had believed no one was watching.

Foolish.

Aegon merely laughed, lifting his cup in a mock salute before falling into uncharacteristic silence.

You spent the rest of the night frozen in your seat, the bitter taste of regret bubbling on your tongue.

Jacaerys didn’t speak as he led you back to your room that night, you could see the anger still bubbling beneath his skin. Could practically taste it in the air.

You knew what he was thinking, because it was what you were thinking too.

This was your fault.

You had been so desperate, so incorrigible, and Jace had given into you. Had allowed you to take what you wanted from him even though he had told you time and time again it was a bad idea.

He wanted to wait.

You started to cry before you could stop yourself.

Hot, heavy tears flowing down your cheeks as you crumbled.

“Sister?” Jacaerys gasped, immediately reaching for you, but you pulled back. Trembling as sobs began to rip from your throat.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You gasped, “This is all my fault.”

Your voice echoed off of the walls of the empty hallway. Only you, Jace and the stars witness as you drop to your knees.

“What are you apologising for, my heart? You have done nothing wrong.” Jacaerys questioned, kneeling beside you, shaking his head frantically. “Please, my love, what is hurting you so?”

“I did this, I forced you into this.” You cried, “And now everyone knows.”

“Forced…” Jace trailed off, you couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t face the betrayal on his face. You knew you were right. You had done this.

“Look at me, my love.” He pleaded but you shook your head, tears continuing to roll down your sodden cheeks. “I’m not going to ask you again, look at me.”

Your head remained downcast, eyes fixed on the smooth stone floor, arms wrapped around your chest as though to hold in the anguish that leaked from you.

“For fuck sake,” Jace hissed, and suddenly you were being wrenched from the floor, legs unsteady as Jace pushed you up against the wall, arms tight on your shoulders. A leg shoved between your thighs. “You dare listen to the words of our drunken uncle? You blame yourself for what we share?”

“You wanted to wait, I forced you…”

“You think you can force me to do anything?” He asked, “Angel, you may have come into my room that night, but I have been waiting for your touch from the moment you gave me your kiss on your fourteenth name day.”

“Jacaerys…” You whimper, “I’m sorry.” You repeated, but Jace snarled, leaning down and crashing his lips against yours.

His lips tasted of salt and sun.

He kissed you like he was starving, his tongue plunging past your lips and licking deep into your mouth. You moaned into his mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck and dragging him in.

“Say fucking sorry again and I’ll fuck the word right out of your mouth.” He growled against your lips.

“Thinking you what, huh? Took advantage of me, angel?” He asked, “Like I’m some little boy who can’t take what he wants?”

“Jace… Jace… I…” You spluttered as Jace pushed you harder against the wall, dragging his hands down your hips.

“You are mine, sister. My fucking girl, my wife.” He said, drawing his hands up your chest and tearing open the front of your dress. The fabric hung loosely around your hips as Jacaerys dipped down, sucking your right breast into his mouth.

It was obscene, the look he gave you, his lips curled around your nipple, suckling on it. Each flick of his tongue sends a shock to your core. One of his hands slid to your other neglected breast, pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger and rolling it in slow circles.

You collapsed against the wall, hands trying to grip on smooth stone as Jace sucked and kissed and licked over your chest. Swapping from one breast to the other until you were bucking your hips onto his thigh, head swimming.

“You think very highly of yourself, princess. Remember it is I who has taught you everything you know about this body. I own every inch of it.” He snarled against your skin, “And when I make you come on my fingers I want you to remember that.”

Jacaerys changed when his hands were on you, something feral crawling from beneath his skin and infecting him. His eyes, his voice and even his taste was different.

He was hotter, blistering against you.

As he drew back up, connecting his lips with yours, you swore you could taste ash on his mouth.

Jace wasted no time, hiking your skirts up and burying his fingers between your thighs. Small clothes easily pulled down.

You were debashed. Breast bare and skirts around your waist as Jace had his way with you in the middle of the Red Keep, not even a tapestry or a curtain shielding you from sight. If anyone were to walk past they would see you exactly as you were.

Claimed.

“So wet for me, angel.” Jace grinned, slowly pumping one finger into your tight wet heat. “Think you can take one more?” He asked against your mouth, already beginning to circle his middle finger around your fluttering hole.

You nodded helplessly, hissing when Jace sunk and second finger inside of you. The stretch was intense, a weird throb erupting inside of you as you tried to resist against the intrusion.

“Relax for me, sweet thing, take a deep breath.” Jacaerys said, stopping his movements so his fingers were resting inside of you. Allowing you to adjust slightly. You did as he instructed, sucking in a large breath through your mouth and releasing it through your nose.

You did this a few times before nodding, and gently Jace began to move once again. His fingers glide past your walls, slick with arousal.

It felt better now, still a little strange, but pleasure was beginning to well.

Jace seemed to notice your ease, raising his thumb and swirling it around your clit. The little bundle of nerves throbbing at the touch, you rose your hips, chasing that feeling.

“Such a perfect little cunt, angel. Knows exactly what it needs.” He said, pushing his thumb firmer against you, rubbing it in time with the curve of his fingers inside of you.

“Next time you think I don’t want this, I want you to remember this moment.” Jace whispered, his lips ghosting down your lips and down your throat. “You all spread open for me, taking what I give you. Okay?”

You didn’t reply, too focused on chasing the high that Jace was bringing you with his fingers.

“I said, okay?” Jace repeated, his voice harsher. His hand grasping your cheek and forcing you to look at him.

“Okay, okay, I’ll remember.” You swore, rolling your hips to meet Jace’s thrusts as the heat beneath your skin began to prickle hotter.

“Good girl.”

He began to jerk his fingers faster, the thumb on your clit bumping, sending jolts of pleasure crackling through your veins. He was relentless, the slick sound of your arousal loud in the otherwise quiet corridor. You couldn’t do anything but whine and moan, watching as Jace dropped his head back to your breasts. Sucking bright red marks across the supple skin.

“Are you gonna come soon, my sweet? I can feel you tightening around my fingers.” Jace groaned, curling his fingers into the spot in your spongy walls that turned your legs to jelly. You collapsed against him. Sweat stains your skin.

“Close.” You moaned, “So, close.”

“Yeah?” He asked, “My good girl, show me how pretty you look when you come. All fucking mine, coming all over my fingers in the halls where anyone could see you. And you know what they would think if they saw? They would know that I fucking own you.”

He finished his words with another sharp thrust into your soft spot that had you screaming, clenching your thighs as Jace pulled you deeper and deeper into the waves of pleasure consuming you.

“Jacaerys, please, please, harder.” You sobbed, clawing at his back, head falling onto the stone wall. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

Jace laughed, harsh and cold and so delicious.

“You are such a whore, sister.” He spat, pulling back and looking down at the mess between your legs. The slick running down his fingers to his knuckles and dripping down your thighs. He reeled back and spit, right on your clit. You felt the warmth of it as it dripped over the bundle of nerves. A cry falling from your lips.

“Gods!” You whined, “More, please.” You cried.

Jace gave you no warning this time as he slipped another finger inside of you. Now three fingers deep, fucking into you at an almost inhumane speed. Maybe you were delirious with pleasure, but you hardly felt the burn this time. Pathetic little uh, uh, uh’s were all you could say as Jace fingered you like he wanted it to hurt. Like you were nothing but a common whore he had picked up and not his wife.

And you fucking loved it.

You could hardly think when Jace curled his fingers under your chin, tilting your head to look at him, using his thumb to drag your mouth open.

“Take it so good, sweet girl.” He said, his thumb pushing so hard on your clit you felt like you were going to burst. “You’d let me do anything I wanted to do to you wouldn’t you?” He asked, and you nodded dumbly, drool pooling on your tongue and dribbling down the corner of your mouth.

You didn’t know what he was doing as he leaned over you, parting his lips, and then he spat directly into your mouth. Your eyes rolled back into your head as your orgasm crashed over you.

So intense that your legs completely gave up and if it hadn’t been for Jace you would have sunk to the ground.

White flashed in your vision, as Jace continued to fuck you with his fingers through your orgasm. Only letting up when you hissed and squirmed.

But he didn’t let you go, instead he pressed his lip against yours, sucking your shared spit into his mouth, rolling it over your tongues as you kissed.

It was so messy and disgusting and absolutely perfect.

You kissed until your eyes began to drop, exhaustion coating your limbs.

“My gorgeous girl.” Jace whispered as he slipped off his cloak and wrapped it around you, shielding your chest before leaning down and straightening your skirts.

“How am I going to explain this to my ladies?” You asked, and Jace only shrugged.

“You got hot?” He offered, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Yea, I’m sure they’ll believe that.” You sighed, slipping under his arm as he led you back to your room.

.・。.・゜✭・.

The library was surprisingly deserted for early afternoon.

You and Jacaerys had slipped inside after almost being caught by Baela kissing in the gardens. You had been laid out on the plush grass, skirts muddled while Jace devoured your mouth, spit dripping down your chins and body’s rising in heat beneath the sun.

It had been all too reckless, but Jace had practically pounced on you when he saw you sitting alone, a book pressed in your hands.

So you now sought refuge in the library, you back pressed against one of the shelves. As much as you loved everything you did with Jace, you would truly never get tired of kissing him. The taste of him on your tongue, the desperation in how he licked into your mouth, exploring every inch of you.

You loved it, loved him, more than anything.

You idly began to trail your fingertips down his chest, dancing across the curves of muscle rippling beneath his clothes. The delicate dips in his hips that led towards the v of his abdomen.

Jace groaned into your mouth, grinding his hips against you.

You grinned in response, trailing your fingers lower until they were teasing the waistband of his trousers.

“Can I touch you?” You whispered, licking the seam of his lips.

“Of course, sweet girl, take what you want.” Jace murmured, his lips curling as you wiggled his trousers down just enough to free his cock, already hard and weeping.

“So pretty.” You cooed, brushing your thumb over the tip, glossy precum smearing. “Are all cocks this pretty?” You asked, “Or just yours?” Jace hissed through his teeth, cock twitching.

“I don’t tend to look at other men's cock, my sweet.”

“Well, that’s okay. Your’s is the only one I want to see.” You murmured, curling your fingers around it and giving it a shallow pump, reveling in the way Jacaerys gasped, his cheeks flushing and eyes widening.

You used his weeping slit to slick his cock, but your hand didn’t glide as easily as it had the night you had taken him in your mouth. So you leaned down, gathering saliva in your mouth and spitting directly onto his cock, rubbing your hand over it immediately, gaining momentum as you did so.

Jace let out an uncharacteristically loud cry, hips bucking.

“Fuck, angel, you are so…” He moaned, “Such a perfect little whore. Know exactly how to wet my cock.” He murmured. What would usually sound harsh from his mouth softened considerably by the dazed look in his eyes as he thrust into your hand. Needy whines escaping him.

“Mm, does it feel good, Jace?” You asked, quickening your hand.

You knew it did, could tell by the rosy colour his cock had flushed, along with his ragged breaths as he chased his release in your hand. You were so caught up in him you hardly noticed the library doors opening again, until voices filled the air.

“I worry for Jace and Princess,” Your mothers voice rang out.

You and Jace both went rigid, unable to see, but you could hear clearly as two sets of footsteps crossed the room.

“You worry too much, dear.” Your father said, “They are to be betrothed, it is only natural that they explore a little.”

Your hand that had gone still on Jace’s cock began to slide slowly up and down, caressing him from base to tip. Panic flared across his face, but you only smiled, continuing to pump him as your parents spoke.

“I know, but I betrothed them in hopes that it would stop all this.” Rhaenyra sighed, “Instead I have the guards telling me they spend every night in one another's bed, and the echoing cries that keep the Keep awake well into the night.” There was a thud and a sharp laugh.

“We knew they were going to be a problem the day you gave birth to her, he has always been enamored with our girl.” Daemon commented, you could hear the smirk in his voice.

You leaned down, a pool of spit dripping from your mouth and onto Jace’s cock, when you looked up his lips were pinched into a firm line. Sweat beading along his forehead.

“Yes but people are noticing, Daemon, Aegon brought it up in the middle of dinner!” Rhaenyra exclaimed, “It’s only a matter of time before they do something that cannot be hidden by hearsay and mindless gossip.”

You began to fasten your thrusts, a quiet slosh of spit and cum bubbling down Jace’s cock, his lips parted in what you thought might be a cry, so without a second thought you pushed your hands over his mouth. Silencing him as you played with his cock.

“They are to be wed soon. Any chatter will go away.” Daemon said, “He is to be king and his only scandal is fucking his future queen…”

“Daemon!” Your mother cried in disbelief. You could have snickered had it not been for your position.

“What? It’s true.” Daemon laughed.

You looked up at Jace, eyes glittering, running your thumb over his tip. He was soaked, precum dripping from his slit. It was so fucked up, and yet you were both enjoying this.

The horrifying thought that if your mother stepped too close. She would catch the two of you, cheeks flushed while you pumped Jace’s cock in your hand. Bringing him closer and closer to the edge with each brush of your hand.

“I only want them to be careful.” Rhaenyra said finally, “The last thing we need is to explain a perfectly healthy baby born at six cycles.”

“We will figure it out, dear.” Daemon said, and finally you heard them leave the room. The door fell shut behind them.

Immediately Jace was pushing your hand away from his mouth, scowling at you.

“You are fucking insane,” He hissed, but his hips were frantically jerking into your touch.

“You loved it.” You reply, grinning as he moaned, spilling all over your hand. Hot thick cum dripping down your fingertips and onto your pretty blue dress.

“Fuck!” He cried out, you continued to pump him through his orgasm, slowing once his hips fell still and his breathing evened.

“We should start being more careful,” Jace said, watching as you raised your hand to your lips. Licking the cum from your skin. His cock twitched.

“Yeah?” You asked, and Jacaerys groaned.

“You are going to be the death of me, my heart.” You only smiled, leaning back against the book shelf.

Imagining a life where you and Jace could do this every day, and no one could say a single thing.

──────────────────────

this is not edited because i’m tired and drunk,,, but i mean, what do we expect from fucked up smut girl 😛

anyways i hope you enjoyed ! mwah ! <3

Marriage was something you always knew would define your future.

Despite your mother sitting comfortably on the Iron Throne for the past year after the death of your grandsire, you always knew that you were worth little without a ring on your finger.

A Princess was something to be dressed in silk and ribbons, displayed before the small folk while the Princes sat in on council meetings. Learned to wield swords and ride to battle.

You had never minded much, you never had an affliction for fighting, and you despised the sight of blood. But things had changed now that you were to marry Jacaerys.

You would not only be a princess, you were to be his queen.

The change was slow, no one said anything out right, but bows before you lasted longer. Eyes lingered and lips curved into sugared smiles whenever you glanced their way.

You had also noticed a shift in your dress. Handmaids take longer weaving your hair into intricate braids, dotted with pearls and gems. Your dresses were tighter at the bust, the curves of your breasts spilling over silk and the skirts flared out, highlighting the slope of your waist.

You knew what had been expected of you before, but it felt different now.

Jacaerys had always been destined to wear the crown, it was his birthright. But he had chosen you to be his queen. Of all the girls in the realm, off all the marriage proposals laid before him over the years. He had waited for you.

Now it was your turn to do your part.

The library was always quiet after dusk. You often found yourself the only soul left wandering through the shelves, books piled heavy in your arms.

There had once been a time where you would have abandoned your studies in favour of spending your evening in the skies. Or tucked in your chamber with Jace and Luke, a bottle of Dornish red fizzling through your veins until you were all giggly and loose limbed.

But these days you would tuck yourself into a corner of the library, pouring over history books in hopes that you could inspire half the admiration that those who came before you had.

It was there that Jacaerys found you, only a few weeks after your betrothal had been declared before the court.

He had been glowing since the words left your mothers lips, all sunshine smiles and gentle touches. Nothing of the man he had been that night in his chamber.

He had been pure fire.

Pillaged by his own filthy desires and you had taken everything he had given you.

But that craving had not been settled, if anything, that single taste had set you alight. You found yourself lost in the memories of his touch every night. Nightgown riding high on your hips and fingers tucked between your legs.

You had tried to sneak to his room a few times, but it seems your guards had smartened after too many mornings of your handmaidens finding your bed empty.

So you tried to stay content with lingering eyes and soft kisses in the halls.

“What are you doing in here, my heart?” Jace said, swooping down to press a delicate kiss to your brow. You looked up at him, heart fluttering at the sight of his wind mused hair and the slight flush on his cheeks. “I was hoping to see you in the Dragon Pit.”

“Not tonight, I’m trying to catch up on my reading.” You confessed, gesturing to the piles of books before you. Each one was thick and heavy and speckled with dust. The exact opposite of what you would usually read.

And Jacaerys knew that.

“The History of Valeriya? The Great King Jaehaerys? Aegon the Conqueror?" He read some of the titles aloud, slipping down onto the chair beside you. “Brushing up on your history? I can assure you, mother is not planning to quiz us anytime soon.” He laughed, reaching out and taking your hand in his.

“I know.” You reply primly, “Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t know these things.”

“Of course, sister, I was only jesting.” Jace said, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. “I apologise.”

You felt an irrational sense of annoyance at his kind words and gentle touch. As much as you adored how sweet he was, how well he treated you, you longed for the person he had been that night.

A dragon.

A man undone by desire.

“Of course,” You scowled, snatching your hand from his grip and using it to open one of the books. “I’m busy, Jacaerys.”

“I… have I done something to upset you, sister?” Jacaerys asked, you could feel his gaze on your face, but you kept your eyes set on the book in front of you, the words swimming across the page.

“No, you’ve done nothing, Jace. Everything’s fine.” You said, venom dripping from your tongue. You went to stand, only for Jace to grab your arm and hold you in place. His other hand grasping your face, forcing you to look at him.

“Watch your tone, my sweet.” He said, voice dangerously soft.

“Let go of me, Jacaerys.” You hissed, trying to pull away, only for Jace’s grip to tighten. He pinched your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger. Fire dancing behind his eyes.

Warmth swelled in your stomach.

“Tell me why you are acting like such a brat and maybe I’ll let you go, but I don’t think that’s what you want though is it, sister. I think this is exactly what you needed.” He shifted, standing so he could tower over you. Dark hair falling across his face, eyes impossible to read.

“I’m not a brat.” You argued, but the fight was flooding from you.

“Liar.” Jace laughed, “Such a desperate girl, you think I don’t notice the flush on your cheeks. The way you are clenching your thighs together.” Your eyes fell to your lap.

“I…”

“Sh, don’t talk.” He crooned, slowly releasing your face. Running his hand down your cheeks, across your lips and down the side of your neck. “Is my girl feeling needy, your pretty cunt empty?” A gasp rose in your throat.

“Sh, sweet girl. I should have known not to give in all those weeks ago, it’s made you greedy. Desperate for pleasure.” His hand continued to glide down your chest, across your breast and towards your stomach. “Tell me, sister, how many nights have you spent with your hand between your thighs, imagining it was me in its place?” He asked with a wicked smirk

You shook your head, biting down on your lip as Jace drifted from your covered belly button to your thighs. Layers of fabric separated you, but you could feel his touch like fire.

“Tell me.” Jacaerys snarled.

“Every night!” You cried, “Every night I have waited, longing for you. I can hardly sleep, you have bewitched my soul. I ache for you, Jace.” You should feel more shameful for how easily you had given in, how quick you were to beg for what you wanted. But you couldn’t, not when Jacaerys was looking at you like that.

“Needy fucking girl.” He scoffed, “Stand up.” You blinked up at him but complied, unsteady as you did so, eyes never leaving him. You were only inches apart now, your breasts brushing against his tunic, hot breath fanning across his neck.

You waited.

Watching.

“Such a good girl when you want to be.” Jace said, shaking his head, “Is this what you wanted sister? To be put in your place? To be reminded who owns you, not just your body, but your pleasure too?” He asked, voice so soft it could be mistaken as sweet nothings by anyone lingering, but to you, it was pure poison seeping into your veins and rendering you tame and pliable.

“All I want is you.” You whispered, and Jace grinned.

“I know, my heart.” He cooed, leaning in and pressing a delicate kiss to your forehead. “Climb up onto the table for me, angel.”

You were dizzy as you turned, backing your body up onto the table and pushing up, arms trembling in anticipation as you landed on the firm wood, legs spread. Jace had followed your movements, twisting so he was facing you. Eyes trailing over the mess he had made you with only a few words.

Your silvery curls were braided prettily away from your face, but the heat beneath your skin had damped the fine hairs framing your face. Lilac eyes were masked by blown pupils.

Your chest heaved in anticipation.

“You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, sweet girl.” He said, leaning in and kissing you. He tasted of salt and sky. You tried to draw him deeper, but he pulled away, a small smirk lingering on his plush pink lips.

“Sorry, angel, but I’m looking to taste something else tonight.”

You could only stare as Jace grasped the bottom of your dress, pushing it up until it laid over your hips. Your legs bare to him, he followed with your small clothes. Easily undoing the tie around the front of them and tugging them down so you were exposed to him.

The cold air of the library hit you. A shudder running up your spine as Jace stared at your cunt.

The sound he made was guttural.

“Jace…” You whispered, shifting slightly on the desk, accidentally widening your legs. Beneath the silvery curls you blossomed like a flower. Folds parting and revealing the plush pink flesh of your clit. Arousal pooling in your core and slowly dripping onto your cunt.

“By the Gods…” Jace said, before dropping to his knees.

Your heart stuttered in your chest.

Jacaerys Velaryon, first born of the Queen and heir to the Iron Throne, was on his knees for you.

“Oh!” You spluttered, aghast as Jace looked up at you from between your legs. A future king, kneeling for his queen.

“You were truly made for me, every inch of you made to torture me.” He whispered, brushing his lips along your inner thigh. “So fucking perfect, sister, I can’t believe you are mine. Mine to kiss, to touch, to taste.” He was grinning as he drew closer, hot breath fanning against your clit.

“Beg for it.” He said, lips so close you could practically feel them. “Beg for me to kiss this pretty cunt until you cum. Be a good girl, and tell me what you want.”

You could hardly breathe, Jace’s words were rolling around your head. He wanted to… you didn’t even know this was possible, an act that could bring pleasure, but Jacaerys seemed to know.

You moaned, hot and wanting, hands gripping the edge of the table.

“Come on, my heart, just say the words and I’ll take you apart.”

“Please, Jace, I need you to… to kiss my… my… my cunt.” You breathed out, stumbling over the filthy words, “Need you to make me cum, wanna cum for you, brother. It’s been so long. I need you so bad.” Tears were welling in your water line. Desperation flooding as you fought against the urge to grab his head and push it between your legs and take what you wanted.

“Jace, please.”

Jace moaned as he leaned in, burying his face into your cunt. The feeling was indescribable, while Jace’s cock against your folds had been silken and slick. His mouth was like a live wire, blisteringly hot and you could feel him everywhere.

He didn’t waste time teasing you, instead he fucking devoured you.

Tongue gliding between your lips, lapping at the slick that dripped from your sensitive hole. Prodding his tongue in and sucking, drinking your in like a man starved.

The cries that fell from your lips were hellish, almost screeching as Jace wrapped his lips around your clit and suckled, flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud until you were bucking your hips off of the table.

He pulled back, just barely.

His lips were shiny and flushed. Eyes black.

“Hush, sister.” Jacaerys hummed, kissing your inner thigh, trailing his tongue along the supple flesh. “You don’t want anyone to catch us do you? Perfect little princess with her legs spread for her older brother in the library.” He laughed, giving you no time to think before he was pressing back in.

Jace ate you out like he had something to prove, the slick sounds of your cunt echoing through the room.

“Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,” He groaned, the vibrations fluttering up your spine and drawing a sob for your lips. You slapped your hand over your mouth, trying to subdue the desperate sounds that escaped you. “Could stay here for hours.”

His fingers slipped through your heat, slick and sticky as one played with your clit while his tongue lapped at you. Diving deeper into you.

“Jace, Jace, Jace.” You chanted, voice muffled. “Feels so good.”

Jacaerys continued to suckle on your lips, capturing them in his mouth and covering your cunt in long fat licks. You were floating somewhere, brain fuzzy as Jace dragged you deeper into pleasure than you had ever felt.

Every flick of his tongue dragged you closer to the earth shattering relief that you knew was brewing in the depths of your stomach.

So fucking close.

Your hands flew to Jace’s head, fingers twining in his dark curls, pulling him closer or drawing him away you couldn’t quite tell. But you knew he liked it, the heavy groans that escaped him with each tug had you hurtling closer to that all eclipsing feeling that was beginning to tingle in the tips of your toes.

“Jace!” You all but screamed as he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, fingers teasing at your entrance. You knew you should have kept your mouth covered, but your entire body was numb. You couldn’t do anything but lay there and take it. “I’m so… I’m gonna…”

“You gonna cum, sweet girl?” Jace asked, releasing your clit with a sharp pop, “Come on, angel, soak my face.”

It was so fucking messy, slick and saliva dripping down your thighs.

Your high caught you off guard, with just one well timed thrust of Jace’s finger just breaching your entrance along with a harsh suck on your clit, you were sent soaring.

White scorched your vision, and for a moment you were free falling. When you came to, Jace was still there. Lapping up your release, with frantic strokes of his tongue.

“Jace!” You sobbed, tears spilling down your cheeks, soaking your face as you tried to drag Jacaerys away from you, but he pushed your hands away. Grabbing your thighs and dragging you closer.

You couldn’t squirm away, all you could do was cry and beg and whimper as Jace gave you what you had begged for.

“Jacaerys, please, it’s too much.” You whined, but he only laughed.

“You can take it, sweet girl. Just give me one more.” He murmured, pussy drunk as he lapped at your sodden folds, his finger now embedded in your spongy walls, twisting and curling against the spot hidden just past your entrance that had your core tightening with each stroke.

“Taste like fucking ambrosia.” He said, as you collapsed down onto the table, unable to hold yourself up as Jace pushed you into another orgasm. Overstimulation rippled up your spine as he thrust his fingers into you and suckled on your clit.

Your eyes were squeezed shut as you rode the last of your high, body going completely lax. You only opened them again when you felt Jace dragging himself over your body.

His face was a mess of slick and sweat and spit, but you didn’t care as he drew you into a dirty kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, salt and spice, intoxicating as you licked into his mouth.

“You did so good, angel. So perfect for me.” Jacaerys said once you parted.

“I missed you.” You said, looking up at him with big doe eyes and he melted.

“I’m sorry, sister. I have missed you too, do not think I do not want you as desperately as you do. If I had it my way, you would spend every day in my chambers, bare and open for me.” He said, pressing a kiss to your sweaty forehead.

“Maybe when we are wed.” You grinned, and Jace chuckled, shaking his head.

“Come, my heart, we should get you cleaned up. Preferably before someone comes in here and catches us like this.” You giggled but complied, allowing Jace to haul you to your feet.

None of the guards said anything as Jace brought you into his chambers, allowing you to spend the night in your betrothed's arms. Happy, warm and sated.

.・。.・゜✭・.

The following few days you found yourself thinking of that night in the library with Jacaerys often.

The morning after you had awoken in his bed, his head buried back between your legs. He had kissed and sucked at your clit until you had come twice in his mouth and then shuffled up the bed, grinding his hard cock against your thigh until he too reached his peak.

You had been practically dizzy at the intimacy, the way it felt to wake up beside him, but you couldn’t help but shake the feeling of wanting to know more.

Jacaerys had the privilege of being a man, of learning what sexual pleasure is, what it can mean, while you were wandering blind. Somewhere between fantasy and longing you were beginning to understand what was possible.

And now you have set your sights on something.

Jace had pleasured you with his mouth, tearing you apart with a few flicks of his tongue, so, you could only assume that you could do the same to him. Only the task seemed a lot more daunting.

You hadn’t seen Jace’s cock since that first night, but you did remember it was long and thick and hard. Was it possible to fit that in your mouth? If you did, what would you do with it? Suck it? Lick it? Would it hurt?

But, the longer you thought about it, the more you found yourself intrigued by the idea. Your thighs clenching as you pictured dropping to your knees before Jace, mouth open and waiting for his cock.

You began to prepare yourself, laying in bed at night you would press your fingers in your mouth. Pushing as far as they could go, you would gag and splutter, tears running down your cheeks as you began to thrust them in and out as Jace had done to your cunt, and soon you could take them. But you knew that they were far from the formidable length of Jace’s cock.

You cornered him late one night, you had both been in the Dragonpit, soaring through the sky together on Vermax and Silverwing, laughing as the evening breeze hit your faces. Once inside Jace had taken your hand, you had walked through the Red Keep, passing the gardens when you grabbed Jace’s hand and pulled.

Dragging him into the twilight stained grounds, finger pressed to your lips.

The guards had informed your mother of yours and Jacaerys late night endeavors, leading to a very serious conversation with her about your actions. If anyone were to find out about it outside of the few trusted staff, you would be ruined, with or without your betrothal to Jace, people would remember you as less. As a girl with loose morals and raised skirts.

But, you were your mothers daughter after all.

Jace had followed you without question until you were both tucked into a corner in the garden unseen by the rest of the Keep, surrounded by bushes. It was your own personal haven.

“My heart…” Jace didn’t get to finish speaking before you pounced. Slotting your lips with his and kissing him breathless.

His arms laced around your hips, holding you against him, while your hands encircled his neck. Keeping him in place so that you could kiss him as you pleased.

It was a little sloppy, your movements erratic as you tried to drink all of him in. Your tongues messily meet in slick strokes, spit dripping down your chins. But you loved it.

You wanted Jace to make you filthy. To ruin every inch of you. Soak you in his sweat, spit, cum and blood until your entire body was no longer your own. Until you couldn’t move without thinking of him.

You sank to your knees unceremoniously. The plush grass tickling your legs as you looked up through your lashes at Jace, raising your arms to unfasted his trousers.

He gasped, eyes blowing wide.

“Angel, what are you doing?” He said, trying to push your hands away but you batted him away. Tugging the buttons open and drawing his trousers down. His cock was already half hard, curving towards his stomach. Your mouth watered at the sight.

“Seven Hells.” He spluttered, “Sweet girl, are you… how do you… fuck.”

You grinned, pleased that you had rendered him speechless.

“I wanna taste you, Jace, like you do for me.” You said, grasping his length in your hand, it was warm and pulsing. You could hardly fit your hand around it. Jace almost doubled over at the touch, eyes fluttering and hands twitching.

“You wanna suck my dick, pretty?” He asked, voice all breath.

“So bad, I've been thinking about it for days.” You whined, “Wanna make you feel good, Jace. Can I?”

“Fuck, you are insane you know that, right?” Jace asked, grabbing the end of your braid and wrapping it around his fist, he pulled your head closer to his cock. It was now nearly fully hard, flushed red and dripping with a milky stream of precum.

“You think you can take it, angel? Your little virgin throat is probably gonna make you choke on it.” He said, but you nodded eagerly.

“I can take it, brother,” You said, leaning in and giving the head a delicate lick. Precum smeared across your tongue. It was slightly salty but it wasn’t off putting so you opened your mouth, wrapping it around just the tip and suckling.

Jace hissed, hips bucking slightly.

You didn’t really know what to do, so you sucked in a deep breath and ducked further. Lips stretching around the girth of him. You bobbed your head once, then twice, his cockhead tickling against the back of your throat.

Your jaw felt funny, and your eyes were already watering. You cast a glance up at Jace who was staring down at you. His eyes black and jaw clenched.

He looked beautiful, rosy pink twilight softening his features. It was almost romantic the way he looked while you were on your knees suckling on his cock.

“Am I doing it right?” You asked, pulling off of him. Spit dribbling down your chin.

“So good, sweet girl.” Jace cooed, stroking your cheek, “So pretty kneeling for me, like a fucking vision.” You preened at his words, running your hand up and down his shaft. It was soft and velvety, your hand gliding with ease, helped by the lubrication of your spit.

“Tell me how you like it,” You said, licking at the tip. “I wanna make you cum.”

“You want me to show you how to do it, sweet girl?” He asked, running his thumb over your bottom lip.

“Yes, please.” You said, opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue.

Jacaerys groaned, cock weeping as he tugged you back to him. Feeding his cock into your greedy mouth.

“I’m gonna fuck your mouth, pretty.” He murmured, “I want you to wrap your lips around me like before,” You followed his instructions, “Good girl, that's perfect. Now, I want you to breathe through your nose, okay. If it gets too much, tap my thigh.” You nodded, lips suctioned around his cock and Jace grinned, always so endeared by you.

He slowly began to thrust into your mouth, small shallow thrusts that slowly nudged the tip of his cock against the back of your throat.

You gagged slightly, gasping around his cock.

“Good girl, you got it.” Jace cooed, gentle as he slid his cock deeper into your throat.

He was heavy on your tongue, the salty tang intoxicating. Your lips were stinging, but you loved this. Loved how warm you felt with Jace buried in your esophagus, precum dripping into your waiting mouth.

“Feels so good,” Jace moaned. “Love your mouth, angel.”

He began to thrust faster, sinking deeper and deeper. You remembered to breathe through your nose, the wet sticky sounds of his cock hitting the back of your throat echoing through the garden, followed by the occasional gag as you took him further.

You were almost at the hilt when Jace pulled back. Spit and come dripping from your mouth, tears flowing down your cheeks.

“I’m gonna cum soon, pretty, do you want me to pull out or…” He didn’t need to finish talking before you were shaking your head.

“No! Cum in my mouth, Jace, please. I need you to come in my mouth.” You begged before taking him back into your mouth, bobbing your head enthusiastically until Jace began to guide you once again.

You scalp ached deliciously, the repetitive push and pull of his hands in your silvery hair.

“My desperate girl. How did I get so lucky with you, angel?” He asked, quickening his thrusts.

You gagged loudly, coughing and spluttering around his cock. Pulling back for only a second before pushing back in. It wasn’t long before Jace’s hips started to stutter, his thrusts becoming shallower. You could listen to the breathy moans falling from his lips forever.

“I’m gonna cum, angel, fuck, fuck, fuck.” He gasped, you suctioned your lips around his tip, swallowing his release as it flooded in your mouth. It was warm and salty and a little heady. Thick hot spurts coating the back of your throat as you tried to swallow all of it.

Jace above you was gasping, you wished you could have watched him as he came. But you were too focused on taking all he was giving you, pulling back only when your throat began to constrict.

“That was…” Jacaerys cheeks were flushed, “You did such a good job, angel. Took it so well.” He praised, leaning down and lifting you from your armpits so you were back on your feet. Your legs felt numb, pins and needles shooting up your calves but you smiled anyway. Face still covered in spit and cum.

“Most noble ladies would never imagine doing something like that,” He laughed, “You really are something else, my love.”

“I cannot wait until we are wed.” You said as Jace did his breeches up.

“It will be the greatest day of my life.” He agreed, using his sleeve to wipe your chin.

“Now come on, my heart, let's get you to bed.” You nodded, giggling when he swept you into his arms and carried you into the castle.

You may have been worried about what it meant to be Queen, but being Jace’s wife was something you would choose in every lifetime.

──────────────────────

this probably isn’t well edited but it’s 2am and i’m tired. also i know the blowjob sucked but i hate them so idc 😛

anyways i hope you enjoyed ! mwah ! <3

Desire was an emotion Targaryens often drowned in. Beneath a layer of skin, a dragon lay, and dragons cannot be contained.

It is said that the bond between dragon and dragon rider is born from the ancient blood magic of Valyria. You cannot take a dragon, nor own one. The dragon chooses you. But even then their loyalty can be fleeting beneath the wrong hands.

Jacaerys had been lucky, the egg placed in his cradle on the day of his birth had hatched.

Vermax was a little spitfire, hissing and spitting whenever anyone but Rhaenyra drew too close to Jace’s crib. They bonded quickly, and soon Jacaerys was the only one allowed near Vermax without the threat of burnt skin and blackened brows.

You on the other hand had waited for years, but your egg never hatched. It wasn’t uncommon, but still you yearned for that connection. You watched your mother and father with their dragons, flitting through the sky. Listened to the stories of your siblings with a weight in your gut.

But then came Silverwing.

She had lived on Dragonstone for many years, never taking a rider after the death of Queen Alysanne. You would often spot her from your window, her large silver wings glistening beneath the pale sun.

And then she saw you.

She had landed before you on the cliffs, an almost curious tilt to her head as she took you in. A girl of only eight, dressed in blue and silver.

Then she roared, a sound that echoed across the cliffs and settled deep within your bones. It wasn’t threatening. If anything, it felt like a welcome. You slipped onto her back like you had done it a hundred times and together you took to the skies.

Soaring over Dragonstone until your lungs were heavy and your ears ached from the rushing winds.

She had chosen you, and finally, you knew what it meant to be a dragonrider. That dormant fire beneath your skin had been set alight and suddenly you were burning.

No one had been happier than Jace when you stumbled through the doors of the main hall, hair mussed and cheeks wind burned. He had swept you into his arms and held you until you were in fits of giggles and squirming.

Years later you still felt giddy when you saw Silverwing. Pride welling in your chest that she had chosen you, had sought you out across the island and claimed you as her own.

But recently she had been restless.

Snapping at the Dragonkeepers, refusing her meals and even greeting you with unusual impatience whenever you visited her in the Dragon Pit.

You couldn’t help but wonder if Silverwing was feeling it too. That frustration coiled deep in your stomach as the tension with Jacaerys stretched tighter with each passing day.

You knew he was being careful.

He was protecting you.

But that didn’t help the ache that settled between your thighs whenever he was near, or the near perpetual flush on your chest whenever you watched him training with your brothers, his muscles taut and brow soaked in sweat as he steel flashed through the air.

It didn’t stop the dreams that haunted your unconscious mind. Images of him above you, touching you, giving into what you both wanted.

It was maddening.

You found yourself seeking him out more and more. Walking into the library when you knew he would be studying, following him into the Dragon Pit, knocking on his bedroom door in the dead of night, tears glistening on your cheeks.

Bad dreams you would tell him as you crawled into bed beside him.

You only hoped he didn’t notice that your eyes were dry and your fingertips damp from trickling water down your cheeks only moments before slipping into his room.

It was one of those nights when you had awoken. The moon was high, casting your bedroom in a blur of silver and shadows.

You had dreamt of Jace again.

Only this time it seemed brighter, what was usually a blur of limbs and light had shifted. You could still taste him on your tongue, feel his hands between your legs. Relieving that ache in your core.

You didn’t quite know what you wanted from him, had never had the chance to learn of intimacy beyond a few hushed conversations between your sisters Baela and Rhaena, or the occasional crude comment from Aegon during dinners when he indulged a little too heavily. Girls like you didn’t need to know things like that.

The strongest tool a Princess had was her maidenhood.

It would secure her a strong match, a husband.

It had been drilled into your head for as long as you could remember. From the maesters to your governess to your ladies.

But that didn’t stop you from stepping out of your bed, ivory nightgown bright beneath candlelight and slipping down the corridors to Jacaerys’ room. Eyes sparkling when he opened after just one knock.

You were stunned by the sight of him.

His hair was a mess, dark curls tussled as though he had been tossing and turning since nightfall. His chest was bare and glittering with beads of sweat, and around his hips a pair of sleep trousers hung low and tight.

Your lips parted.

“Sister.” Jacaerys greeted, warm and sweet and desperate.

You couldn’t drag your eyes away from his chest.

“Brother.” You echoed, voice raspy. A hint of a smile graced his lips as he looked down at you, at your dry face and flustered appearance.

Silvery curls slicked to the side of your face, lilac eyes burning like dragon fire.

He pulled you in, the door slipping shut behind you, and you were alone. Only the moon and the fire in the hearth witnesses to your midnight madness.

“Jace,” You whispered, bewitched by him. He was all gold and stars and stone. You couldn’t take it. So you struck. Hands encircling his throat, dragging him down until his face was level with yours and you kissed him. Kissed him with all of the force you could muster until the space between you was blistering.

You expected resistance, a gasp or maybe even a cry and you forced yourself into his arms. But Jacaerys had crumbled.

His hands flew to your waist, harsh as they drew you into his body. Bodies flush as he devours you. What you brought in enthusiasm Jace matched with ease. He kissed you like heaven was on your tongue and he was begging for redemption. He kissed you like the sky was falling and you were salvation.

Your pulse fluttered, frantic butterfly wings bursting as Jacaerys ran his tongue along the seam of your lips. You let him in easily, tongue meeting him in slick strokes that drew a small moan from the back of your throat.

You hardly ever kissed like this.

Jace preferred to keep it closed mouth, safer, he would always say.

But nothing about this felt safe.

This was dangerous, but you didn’t care. You had been waiting too long.

Jacaerys seemed to have the same thought in mind as he began to move, his body crowding you against the wall beside the door, cold stone meeting your heated skin. You gasped into his mouth, the sound drawing a groan from him as he pushed you harder against the wall, hands slipping from your waist up your rib cage, dancing dangerously close to your breasts.

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” Jace murmured against your mouth. “You are a fucking temptress, sister.”

“You want it though,” You reply, words biting as you rake your fingers across his scalp. “Why deny us what we both crave?”

“Because to deny myself is to protect you!” He hissed, drawing back only inches. His brown eyes swallowed entirely by darkness, “What I want from you, sister, I cannot have. I will not disgrace you in the name of desire.” But he did not shift away. His hands remained on your chest, and his lips were so temptingly close.

“I do not want to be protected.” You say, softer than before, “I have never needed protection, Jace. Our mother is the Queen, my father a warrior. The only thing you are doing is denying what we are.”

Jacaerys exhaled heavily, his breath warm against your lips.

“My heart, I cannot… not when your finger remains bare and our vows unspoken.” He said, leaning in and kissing you gently. “But, I will not ignore what we both crave…” Jace paused for a moment, meeting your gaze and smiling slightly. “There are other ways we can satisfy the burn within us without so much risk.”

“Other ways?” You ask, curious eyes trailing across his lips.

“I shall show you, if you would like.” He offered, and you nodded, a smile still curled on your lips when Jace drew you in once more and kissed you senseless.

You were unsure what Jace’s idea entailed. You were aware of certain acts, but mostly you only knew that being bedded was what brought around children.

But Jacaerys was too careful to allow something like that to happen.

He continued to only kiss you for a few moments, but slowly his hands began to drift, lacing themselves over your breasts and giving them both a sharp squeeze. You spluttered against his lips, eyes blowing wide as he ducked down. Trailing kisses down your neck, across the base of your throat and further down. Skimming the tops of your breasts.

“Is this what you wanted, sweet girl? For me to give into the rotten hunger in my heart? To take you apart beneath my hands?” He whispered, his fingers ghosting over the ties at the front of your nightgown.

“Yes,” You said, unashamed as Jacaerys met your gaze, “Did you really think I was sneaking in here each night because I was truly scared?” You asked him, watching as the realization crossed his face. “I fly saddleless on a one hundred year old dragon, Jace.”

You expected laughter, maybe a roll of your eldest brother's eyes. Instead you were met with venom.

“Spoiled fucking thing.” Jace scowled, no longer gentle as he tugged open your dress, the threads tying it together tearing beneath his grip, leaving your chest exposed to his bitter gaze. “Every night I fight the urge to bury myself between your pretty virgin thighs because I think you come to me for comfort, but really you are just here to sate your filthy urges?”

You can’t help the gasp that escapes you. Here, so exposed and achingly longing for Jace, desperate for anything he will give you.

“I…” The words tangle on your tongue and the smile Jace gives you is pure vitriol.

“Lost for words now, my sweet? But you were so confident before.”

“I… Jace,” You spluttered, nipples hardening in anticipation. “I just wanted you! It is maddening spending each day with this feeling coiled so tight beneath my skin. Everytime you touch me I feel like I am dying. I need you to take it away, to finally release the ache between my legs that blossoms each time that we kiss.”

Jacaerys snarls at your words, and you know that he has finally snapped.

The last thread of his composure is torn as he buries his face between your breasts.

You can hardly breathe as he sucks and licks the sensitive skin of your nipples. Swallowing around one while pinching the other with sharp twists and tugs that send your head slamming against the wall. Breathless as he takes what he has been wanting for so long.

“I’ve been so patient with you.” He seethed against your left breast, “Waiting for mother to confirm our betrothal. We had hoped to surprise you with it, but what use is it now?”

“We are to be married?” You ask, threading your fingers through Jace’s dark curls.

“Of course we are.” He said, biting down on your nipple. “Like I would ever allow another to have you as I do now. You are mine, sister. You always have been.”

Relief flooded through you.

Yes, yes, yes.

You were his and he was yours. You had always known, and now it was finally going to be shared with the rest of the seven realms.

“Yes!” You cried out when Jace switched to your other breast, running his teeth across the sensitive nub. “Oh, Jace. Please.”

“What is it, my sweet?” He asked, his hands now beginning to trail down your hips, lingering on the curve atop your things. His hands were blistering, the thin fabric of your nightgown doing nothing to alleviate the pure heat that was radiating from him.

And his eyes, there was something feral there. The eyes of a dragon before it burned you into nothing but ash and embers.

“Ruin me.” You say, no hint of hesitation. “I cannot stand this any longer.”

The next second was a whirl of movement. Jace had straightened, and he was yanking you across the room. No chance to think, no chance to breathe as he tossed you down onto his bed. The sheets are still slightly warm as you lay there, watching as he crawled over top of you, and slipped between your parted thighs.

“I will not fuck you,” Jace said, running his hands up your thighs, bringing your gown with him as he did so. “But that does not mean I won’t give you what you need.” He grinned, exposing your cunt to the night air.

You shuddered, watching him carefully as he took you in. The dip between your legs, the silvery curls that shielded your most intimate parts. The plush lips of your cunt drenched in arousal as you lay there on display for him.

The sound he made was guttural.

“You are a fucking vision.” Jacaerys said, reaching out and trailing a finger through your slit. So slowly it caught every nerve ending and had you bucking against him after only a single touch. “Such a pretty cunt, sister.”

“Jacaerys.” You whimpered, reaching out for him. You needed him everywhere. His lips, his hands, his… “Need you, need you to touch me. Please.”

“I am touching you.” He said, grinning, but he was moving anyway. His bare chest glinting in the moonlight as he pushed himself up, capturing his finger between his lips and suckling on the arousal that clung there. “Like fucking ambrosia.” He groaned, shucking his trousers off.

Your jaw fell slack at the sight of him.

Thick, long and heavy.

The tip was flushed an angry dark red and leaking, the base curved upwards, hidden beneath a swirl of dark curls.

“Oh,” You managed to say, unable to tear your eyes away. Jace laughed, grasping it in one large hand and gently stroking it from base to tip.

“Is this what you wanted, sweet girl?” He asked, lowering himself back onto you. One hand falling beside your head while the other guided his cock between your swollen lips, slicking himself in your arousal. Your back arched at the sensation. The silken head catching on your clit, a burst of pleasure rippling up your spine. “Fucking gorgeous.”

“I thought you said… you said you weren’t gonna fuck me.” You said, looking at Jacaerys through your lashes. His brows were tight, lips pressed into a thin line as he soaked himself in you. He looked beautiful like this.

“I’m not,” His voice was gruff, an undercurrent of restraint colouring his words as he slid his cock back and forth. Just enough to send a jolt of electricity through you each time he bumped your clit. “I won’t go inside.” He said, though you weren’t quite sure if he was telling you or himself as he started to pump his hips faster.

The slick sounds of your cunt mixing with the precum drooling from Jace’s cock were utterly indecent, echoing through his chamber. You wondered if it could be heard outside his door. You imagined the guards walking up and down the halls of the Red Keep, ears perked as they caught the sound of skin on skin squelching from within the heirs room.

“Have you…” The words caught in your throat, Jace met your eyes, never slowing his motions.

“Have I what, my heart? Done this before?” He guessed before you even had to shape the words. Something in him softened. “No, I have never touched another, sweet girl. I’m yours.” You loved the way that sounded.

Yours.

“Mine.” You agreed, widening your legs and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Drawing him closer. The change was immediate.

The closeness brought him even tighter against your throbbing cunt. His chest pressed against yours, sweat and salt melting together and drowning you in his scent of sea, smoke and sky. And his cock, you could never have imagined what it would feel like, the hotness of it against you, long and thick and pulsing against your heat.

You were already dizzy.

You could only imagine what it would feel like when it was inside of you.

Jace seemed to be having the same realization as he pressed his forehead to yours, his breath fanning over your face as he continued to thrust against you. Little gasps falling from your lips each time he touched your clit.

“That’s it, sweet girl.” Jacaerys hummed, “So fucking wet for me.”

“Feels… feels so good, Jace… I… I…” You spluttered out, rolling your hips with his, pressing yourself so close you could feel the prominent vein that ran along the underside of his cock. “Don’t stop, please, don’t ever stop.”

“Shh, I have you, I have you.” Jace said, his thrusts were becoming erratic, sharp bursts against your cunt as he tried to control himself. But the slick of your cunt was making it harder. With each roll of his hips his cock bumped against your entrance. It would be so easy for him to just sink into you and take what had always been his.

Your hands were twitching where they lay on Jace’s shoulders, everything inside of you preparing itself as the knot in your stomach began to tighten.

“Jace,” You whined, unable to do anything else as the closeness began to fog your mind. You had been dreaming of this for so long, that now it was real you didn’t know what to do with yourself. All you could think, feel and taste was Jace.

“Are you feeling good?” He asked, peppering kisses across your face.

“Mmm,” You mumbled, silenced as his lips found yours.

The kiss was messy, all teeth and tongue. Spit dripping down your chin as Jacaerys licked into your mouth.

You didn’t want to stop until every inch of you was coated in him. But your orgasm was drawing in fast. And Jace was relentless.

His cock dragging across your clit with every thrust, his free hand was back to playing with your supple breasts, rolling your nipple between his fingertips with each delicious flick of his tongue against yours.

You were nothing but a molten ball of pleasure.

You couldn’t stop the sounds escaping you, even with Jacaerys mouth on yours, little uh, uh, uh’s spilled as your orgasm began to peak. Curling from the tips of your toes all the way up to your spine.

“Jace, Jace!” You cried as he pushed into you, harsh and thick and so fucking close that you could basically feel him inside of you. You came with a sob, all that pleasure bubbling up and exploding as Jace continued to grind against you. His cock throbbing against your spasming hole.

“That’s it, sweet girl, come all over my cock.” Jace hissed, his own peak cresting behind his eyelids as he spilled across your cunt with a loud moan. His seed dripping down your slit and pooling on his bed in a milky stream.

He continued to fuck against you through your highs, spurts of come soaking you as you lay limp across the bed. Tears dripped down your cheeks as you tried to suck in oxygen to your ravaged lungs.

“You did so good for me, sweet girl.” Jace cooed, kissing away the tears on your cheeks, his lips pulled into the sweetest smile you had ever seen. “My perfect girl.”

You smiled faintly, body still pulsing with the aftershocks.

“Are we really to be wed?” You asked as Jace sunk down beside you, pulling you into his arms.

Your head lay over his chest, listening to the rhythmic patter of his heart.

“Yes, mother and I had hoped to tell you next week during the celebrations for her first year on the throne.” He confessed, “She was going to announce it during the feast, but…” He trailed off, and when you looked up at him he was laughing silently, “I think I prefer how this went.”

“Jace,” You said, giggling quietly and shaking your head.

“Do you disagree, my heart?”

“No, I definitely do not.” You grinned, heart fluttering when Jace drew you into another kiss.

As you dozed off, you couldn’t help but dream of him. Of his hand in yours, blood smeared across your lips as you declared yourselves to one another for all to see.

──────────────────────

it’s 2am this is unedited but hey, it’s honest work. also my mum sat next to me twice while i was writing this and i felt 14 again lmao.

The first time Jacaerys laid eyes on you, he knew you were different.

You were the first of his mother’s children to be born with silvery locks and lilac eyes, the picture of Targaryen grace and beauty. A tiny thing, writhing in Daemon’s arms as he presented you to your siblings, face flushed crimson, arms clawing against the swaddling blankets. But when you were placed into Jace’s arms you fell silent. Eyes fluttering shut, your tiny hand curling around his and clinging to it.

He was enamoured by you.

As days slipped by, he spent every stolen moment at your side. Plucking you from your bassinet when the wet nurse wasn't looking and simply looking upon your face. Fingers brushing across your soft cheeks. Your mother thought it sweet, your father knew better. He had known this love before. The impenetrable connection fated by the gods.

It was only a matter of time before you, too, learned what the gods intended for you both.

As you grew, as did Jacaery’s devotion.

With his other siblings he was kind, playful and loving. But you, he worshiped the ground at your feet. Insisted that he accompany you on every adventure. Each lesson, each dress fitting, he was there. He was the person you would reach for when you cried, the one who could sneak you lemon cakes before dinner even when your mother said no. He was your everything, and you were his.

It was only natural that things would progress the way that they did.

Your four and tenth name day was a celebration for the ages. The Red Keep was alight with music and laughter. Golden candlelight bathed the Great Hall, making everything within sparkle. Your cheeks were flushed and eyes glassy as your father spun you on the dance floor. His laughter echoing as you clung to his shoulders, steps clumsy after some over indulgence of the wine served with dinner.

Jacaerys watched you from afar, his lips curled up.

You were ethereal.

A vision in silver and silk. Glimmering like a star dancing across the night sky.

He really couldn’t help himself from standing up from his seat and pushing himself through the crowd until he was before you and Daemon. Your father released you easily, allowing you to slip into Jacaerys’ arms like you had belonged there all along.

“Are you having fun, sweet sister?” Jace asked, his lips pressed against your ear. You leaned into him, head resting against his firm chest and breathing in his scent of salt, sea and smoke.

“The most, dear brother. Mother and father always throw the most wondrous celebrations.” You beamed, though he couldn’t quite see your face. Only a veil of silvery curls.

“They certainly do, especially when our dear princess is involved.” You giggled, tilting your head up, lilac eyes glistening. His stomach spun and knotted itself into a spiral.

“Don’t tease me so,” You murmured, petal lips perfectly pouted. Jacaerys wanted nothing more than to close the distance between you, instead, he swallowed the impulse and smiled.

“I would never.” He declared, leaning in ever so slightly, his mouth only a breath away from your own. “You look radiant tonight, my sweet. I do not want to let you out of my sight.” You sucked in a deep breath, all too aware of the people around you.

“I know you like me in silver.” You confessed, before anything else could be said the song ended and you were stepping out of his embrace. Drawn into a dance by a noble man before Jacaerys could protest.

It wasn’t until hours later that Jacaerys found you again. You were dazed, eyes too wide as he led you through the silent passages of the Red Keep. Your lips were stained crimson, and hands restless. You chased his touch. Running your fingers along his arms, up his shoulders and creeping up the side of his neck.

“What are you doing, my sweet?” He murmured as you drew close to your chambers but you said nothing. Clumsily grasping his shoulders, holding him in place just beyond a large window, the faint moonlight transformed you both into nothing but lines and shadows. “Sister…”

His words were silenced when you leaned up, placing a delicate kiss on his mouth, drawing back with a giggle.

“I wanted you to be my first.” You whispered. A small groan escaped Jace’s lips as he drew you in, hands on your waist, you met him easily, hands sliding around his neck. Playing with the curls at the base of his skull.

“You cannot just kiss me like that, sweet girl.” Jace said, shaking his head.

“Why not?” You pouted.

Jace didn’t reply, instead, he leaned in and kissed you. Hot and heavy, nothing of the gentle brush of lips you had given him. This was hungry and all consuming.

He kissed like a man starved, desperate for the taste of your lips. He didn’t pull away, he didn’t laugh. He took and took and took. Kissing you until your lungs burned and your head was spinning, and even then, as you heaved for air he scattered kisses along your cheeks, across your jaw and then kissed your lips again.

“Brother?” You said finally when he drew back, his face was etched from stone and stars.

“If you kiss me again, I may not be able to stop myself.” Jacaerys told you, running his fingertips across your puffy pink lips.

“I may not want you to.” You say, smiling when his eyes fell shut. A ragged breath being sucked in through his nose.

“Goodnight, sister.” He said finally, drawing away and walking into the shadows. You watched after him, heart swelling desperately.

The following years, the kiss was not forgotten. Even if you had been lost beneath a haze of Dornish Red, you could not forget the look on Jacaerys face before he kissed you, the taste of his mouth, the feeling of his hands on you.

You ached for more.

And Jacaerys was no better.

You sought each other out, sneaking off during balls and feasts to kiss each other breathless beneath the veil of twilight. Finding one another alone during quiet days at the castle and disappearing into the shadows to take what you wanted.

It wasn’t long before people started to notice. Your siblings raised their brows when you appeared suddenly, cheeks flushed and hair askew, Jacaerys just behind you, ruffled and radiant.

Your father would shake his head and smother a smile, drawing your mothers attention away before she could look too closely at your swollen lips and glass eyes.

It was reckless, but it was true.

You always knew it had been Jacaerys. He was yours.

Even if your mother had yet to betroth you.

Every stolen glance lasted a heartbeat longer than the last. Each touch seemed to burn brighter. Jacaerys was your salvation and your ruin. But he was also a Prince.

A man of honour and heir to the Iron Throne.

He would not allow himself to be so easily swayed by temptation. Even when the sweetness of your lips melted his mind and softened the resistance in his heart.

You were a Princess, his princess.

And yet your finger bore no ring, and your hand no mark.

So he waited, content with what you had until the time would come

──────────────────────

"You played so well tonight." Your thumb rubs the side of his bicep.

"Thank you for coming and supporting me.” His lips linger against your forehead.

"Of course. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

He sighs contently, gaze drifting down. "My jersey looks good on you." He lifts your arm up and you do a spin for him. "Really fuckin' good."

Your heart pounds through your ribs.

He ducks his head beside your ear. "I don't know if I'll be able to keep my hands off of you until we get home."

Your lips part, cheeks heating up. He grabs your waist and pins you against the hood of his bronco. The car beside you pulls out and they honk at you.

You grab the side of his jaw and bring his mouth to yours. The kiss is far beyond innocent or appropriate for a public setting. Your free hand travels to the back of his head, nails clawing through his hair. He groans and grabs a handful of your ass.

You both are so caught up in each other that you fail to notice the people walking by. A whistle flows through the air and you pull away, glancing over. Garrett, Logan, Tucker, Hannah, and Allie are scattered throughout the lot, hopping into cars. Dean is headed in a straight line towards you.

He throws his hands up in the air. "If you're going to put on a free show, don't stop on my behalf."

You squint at him and Beau steps back. He walks over and pulls him in for a quick hug. They exchange quick compliments regarding the game and Dean shoots a wink at you—hinting to the double meaning. Beau gives his chest a shove, forcing Dean back a step.

A black jeep sounds its horn across the lot reminding Dean of his reason to come over. "Party at my house tonight. Be there." He starts to walk backwards while pointing a finger at you. "Don't distract him…too much."

You roll your eyes. ”We'll be there. Bye Dean."

Beau blows him a kiss through the air and turns back to you. He attempts to resume what Dean interrupted but you stop him.

"You heard the man. Party." You poke his chest.

He pouts, eyes begging, but you don't give in. Instead, you walk over to the passenger side of the car. He opens the door and helps you in. The sight of his last name stretched across your back makes his breath hitch. Garrett honks again as he drives by snapping him back to reality.

He walks around, sliding into the drivers seat. The bronco hums to life, cool air blowing softly onto the two of you. You close your eyes and sigh at the feeling, it was exactly what you needed after being outside for hours. The sound makes his brain short circuit.

You expect him to drive off or even buckle his seat belt, but neither of those come. When you turn toward him, his attention is glued to you.

"You feeling alright?" Your eyebrows furrow. "I can drive home if you need. We don't have to go to the party."

"No, I'm fine." His grip is rough against the inside of your thigh. "You're just gorgeous...so unreal."

A heat simmers low in your belly and you squeeze your thighs together. His jaw clenches, thumb gliding across your thigh. His other hand cups your face, bringing it to him.

He meets you in the middle, tongue pressing into your mouth instantly. The kiss is filthier than the last. The hand on your thigh reaches underneath you and grabs your ass. He murmurs something incoherent. You pull back and tilt your head.

He smirks and pats his lap. You get the hint, kicking off your shoes. He grabs your waist and helps guide you over the center console.

Once on his lap, you can't help but laugh. The space is so small and forces you to be completely against him. He smiles and gently holds your face, kissing the tip of your nose.

"I love you," he whispers. His grip drops down to your lower back.

You bite your lip. "I love you more."

You reach down and pull the lever causing the seat to fall back. Both of you giggle and get comfortable. Your hips accidentally grind against his and the laughter quickly turns into a groan. He's painfully hard and being able to feel your warmth isn't helping. You rock your hips, nails digging into his shoulders.

"Oh fuck baby." His eyes roll back as you continue. The back windows of the car have already started to fog despite the car running.

Headlights beam in as another car passes and you stop.

He glances up. "What's wrong?"

"What if someone sees us?"

“I don’t think anyone will." His face is full of certainty. "But we can stop if you want."

You glance around the lot. Two cars sit unoccupied in the corner and it's probably the janitors.

“No.” You clit pulses. “I need you now.”

You lean down and press your lips to his again. He grabs your ass and grinds against you.

"Your skirt." Beau says between kisses.

You attempt to take it off but the lack of room makes it surprisingly difficult. He smiles sympathetically, suggesting to turn around. You face the steering wheel and it's much easier this way. He also gets a perfect view of your ass. You turn to face him but he stops you.

"Stay facing that way." His fingers drag across your shoulder blades. "You look so good wearing my name. I wanna see it while I'm inside of you."

You hold onto the dashboard as he pushes down his shorts and boxers as far as possible. The leather is slick against your knees making it difficult to stay in the seat. Luckily, he grabs your hips and guides you backwards before you slide too far.

“Ride me baby.”

You hum and reach for his cock. It’s heavy in your palm and drenched in fluid. He helps line it up with your pussy, shaky breaths leaving him as your arousal coats the tip further. His jaw drops slack as you lower onto him.

You pause and wait for the stretch to subside. Once it does, you can fully feel him inside. There’s not an inch he doesn’t touch. “So…full.”

“Uh-huh.” His fingers tighten around your hips, guiding you up slowly. “And so fuckin' tight.”

You take a second to breathe before lifting and sinking back down. You both moan much louder than you should, but it's not like anyone is around to hear. You continue the movement, holding onto the steering wheel for balance. His body trembles as you squeeze him.

You try to speak but the words only come out in incoherent increments. Normally, he would tease you but tonight, it's too much. He bucks into you, tip of his cock hitting your sweet spot.

Your head falls forward, body trembling under the force of him and your orgasm approaching. He can feel it and slides a finger down to your clit, circling hard.

The combined effort sends you over the edge. You gush around him with a final thrust, he cums inside of you. Your body shudders as it hits your walls, filling you more than he already does.

Slowly, he lowers you down onto his chest. You both breathe heavily, coming down from the high. The windows are covered in fog and you reach up drawing a heart in the corner.

He chuckles and turns to face you, lips brushing against your hair. “We're definitely not making it to that party.”

It felt eerily like an omen of death. Much like human beings, even the mighty rocks eroded, ultimately fading into insignificance.

​You supposed you found truth in the sayings of the sea men. Gazing out from the stone window of the castle’s main entrance, you felt as though you could sniff the very scent of mortality intertwined with the fragrance wafting from the sea.

The situation was dire. Rhaenyra was deeply shaken, harboring grave concerns both for her realm and for the safety of those who surrounded her.

​You could share this exact sentiment with the Queen. Having lived by her side for so long as the betrothed, and later wife of her eldest son and heir, Jacaerys, you had been profoundly influenced by her.

​Yet, in all honesty, you possessed no real power. You were no warrior; you were a lady of the court who had spent the better part of her life mastering etiquette and diplomacy befitting a future queen. And in spite of your brother's archery lessons, you weren't really a master in the art, since you were forbidden from ever pursuing them. Furthermore, lacking Targaryen blood, you possessed no dragon of your own. Your sole encounter with these majestic creatures was when Jace introduced you to Vermax. Consequently, you were utterly powerless and helpless to offer any aid.

And the truth was, you loathed it. You despised remaining idle, watching everyone expose themselves to peril while you stayed sheltered behind the walls of Dragonstone.

​Still, on numerous occasions, you had sought to assist in your own way. It was your patient entreaties that had swayed your brother, Cregan Stark, convincing him that it was wise to join the war alongside the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. Furthermore, you had accompanied Jace to the Freys, eloquently detailing not only the financial incentives but also the renown they would attain by enlisting in Rhaenyra’s army.

​Yet that was the extent of the aid you could offer.

​Now, you were merely confined to your chamber, desperately trying to conjure up something useful.

Your thoughts were revolving around the general state of affairs when the door to your chamber opened, and your husband walked in.

​"Jace." you uttered softly, a wave of relief washing over you at his sudden appearance.

​Yet, that solace evaporated almost instantly.

​In Jace’s eyes, you could discern a sudden frenzy, an unsettling madness you had never witnessed before. His brown irises had dilated, consuming nearly the entirety of the sclera, while the inner pupils seemed to have constricted into pinpoint dots, if such a thing was even possible.

​"Y/N." he greeted you tersely, closing the distance between you.

​You rose from the chair where you had been seated and approached him cautiously.

​"What is the matter?" you inquired hesitantly. "Is everything alright?"

Your husband shook his head, implying that nothing bad had happened.

"We can win this war. Put an end to it." he said, and a maddened smile appeared on his face. "Y/N, I found a way, I have the means. The time has come."

Turmoil washed over you, and as Jace moved closer to you, you took a step back, leaving a small gap between you.

"This is madness." you said, making your displeasure immediately obvious. "You can't just announce to me that you're about to solve a war that has ruined our lives. At least not without explaining your plans first."

If he was disheartened by your words, he didn't show it.

"Listen to what I'm planning before you set yourself against me." In his words, there was a sense of humor, but the circumstances didn't allow you to laugh.

​Seeing the look in your eyes, a gaze filled with fear and anxiety, Jace tried to reassure you.

​"Corlys' ships are gathering at the Gullet. They intend to fight the Triarchy and crush the usurper's fleet, while also getting my younger brothers to safety in Pentos." He paused and looked you in the eye, trying to convey the importance of what he was saying. "I will fly with Vermax to help the Velaryon fleet from the sky. Baela has already agreed to come with me on Moondancer."

​Widening your eyes, you looked at Jace, the man you had learned to love for so long, as if you had never known him at all.

​"What does your mother have to say about this?" you asked him, trying to slow down any reckless move he might make.

This made him a bit more sober; it brought a gravity to his face. The mention of Rhaenyra not only brought him back to the present, but shook him enough to make him reflect on the weight of his impending actions.

​"You know my mother would never agree to me putting myself at risk." he said with a frown. Indirectly, however, he betrayed that the Queen had no knowledge of his plans.

​"Jace." you breathed, though it was difficult and required a great deal of effort. "I am just as against this as your mother will be when she finds out you intend to disobey her."

​You were there for a recent incident, where Rhaenyra had forbidden him from flying into battle and facing his uncles. The outcome had been predictable; Rhaenys died fighting atop her dragon, but selfishly, you could say you were glad it wasn't Jace in her place.

​"She won't find out." Jace said hesitantly.

​You raised your eyebrows. "How come?"

"Because I won't tell her." he answered, determined. "No one will tell her."

​"So, you mean to disobey the Queen? Go against her wishes?"

​He made a sound as his tongue clicked against his teeth, and it seemed to you like he was about to roll his eyes at your questions.

​He didn't even answer; he simply nodded.

​It was your turn to scoff. "She only means to protect you, Jacaerys. And frankly, I'm on her side." You looked at him pointedly. "You are the heir to the throne, next in line to be king. You can't act recklessly just to prove yourself to whoever you aim to please."

​He glared at you. "I don't want to prove myself to anyone. I owe it to my Queen to serve her in the best possible way. It just so happens that this way is through battle, and it is my duty to sacrifice myself for her."

​Tears began to blur your eyes, and you felt the moisture like a threat.

​"And what about our children, Jace?" you tried to reason with him, your voice breaking. "What about Aerea and Aerys? What about me? Am I to be your widow, weeping and regretting the moment you left our hearth? The moment I let you go?"

It seemed that your tears moved him, because in the very next moment he came right up to you and held you tightly, as if there was no tomorrow. And right there, in his arms, his comfort warmed you for a little while.

​"You have to understand." he spoke to you softly. "In times of war, it is understandable and required that we make certain sacrifices. Yes, I can't deny that it's dangerous, and that there's a chance I could meet my end out of nowhere. But, Y/N, it's worth it. If I manage, together with our fleet, to crush Aegon's forces, everything will be resolved. Our children will live in a world with peace. Think about it."

​And you did think about it.

​And when his lips met yours, you inevitably agreed.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

However, even though you promised Jace that you would stay behind to take care of the twins and ensure the queen's safety, you knew that you could not leave the only man you ever loved to put himself in the worst danger.

And it was true. Your heart burned at the thought that your husband would sacrifice his skin while you would sit once again idle, motionless and inactive.

And so, you approached Baela and begged her to take you with her.

“I can shoot with a bow.” You pleaded. “Cregan has taught me the art of archery and he is the best in this field in the North." You didn't mention that you weren't an expert. You couldn't. "Please. I can't lose him. And I can't let you carry the equivalent weight alone in case he falls in battle. I need to be there.”

Baela tried to discourage you, but it was in vain. You had already persuaded Daemon's daughter, while you yourself had taken your decision so seriously, that no one could make you back down. You wanted to be present.

And so it happened. Wearing the suit with dragon scales that you borrowed from Baela, you mounted Moondancer with her, after Jace had departed. Holding her tight, and with your bow tied to your back and your shield in your right hand, you headed to the Gullet to fight against the Triarchy.

As you had planned, Jace hadn't noticed you for most of the flight. Baela had risen high enough, and was flying directly above him, so that he wouldn't be able to realize that you had gone along with them.

When the dragons faced the enemy fleet, however, everything changed. Relentlessly, you tried to find members of the enemies and hit them.

Your previous words had been proven true. Indeed, Cregan had taught you the ways of the bow and almost none of your arrows missed their target. One after another, the enemies fell unexpectedly and took their final breath.

But every good thing comes to an end sooner or later. The ballistae of the Triarchy launched huge wooden bolts that thrust under the scales of Vermax, and began pulling him down. The green dragon began writhing in pain, resulting in you and Baela abandoning your post and rushing to help Jace.

And that was when he noticed you too. Narrowing his eyes, he observed your figure hanging from Baela's back and giving her orders on how they could best help him.

Anger was the least of what he felt. He waited just a moment for the time when his fury would wash over him at the sight of you, at the thought of returning back so he could remind you how foolish your choice was to follow him onto the battlefield, but the only thing he felt was sadness. Indescribable, endless sadness and emotion at the image of your sacrifice for his salvation.

He watched helpless your attempt to cut with your slender arrows the rope that joined his dragon to the bottom of the sea and felt such warmth, that sweat began running down his temples, not for the thought that he could die, but for the one reflecting your unconquerable spirit.

On the other side, you attempted again and again to hit the thin fabric, but it seemed that luck had abandoned you. All your previous successes seemed pointless, as if it didn't matter the least that you helped suppress a large part of Aegon's fleet.

And as if that wasn't enough, your missed shots resulted in reducing the number of your arrows very quickly. Before you even realized it, you had almost run out. It didn't help much either that in your attempt to free Jace, the shield that protected you slipped from your hands and fell with fury into the sea.

In the end, Baela decided to have Moondancer cut the ropes with his teeth and free the other dragon. Vermax rose with a cry of anger and continued to burn the enemy's ships.

Despite the tragic situation that prevailed a few minutes ago, everything showed that Viserys and Aegon, your husband's brothers, would finally manage to leave. Corlys was fighting too in the best possible way, and the numbers of the Triarchy constantly seemed to be increasing.

“Y/N!” you suddenly heard from your left and turned to see Jace looking at you with surprise.

Immediately you thought he was angry with you and opened your mouth to explain to him, but yet another spear flew upwards, forcing him to move to avoid it.

You thought he wouldn't try to talk to you again during the operation, but he was persistent.

Approaching Baela's dragon from the right this time, he shouted to you so he could be heard through the wind.

The moment he was about to talk to you though, unprotected after the fall of the shield and having no other arrows, you received a strike to your side.

For a moment everything blurred. You lost the grip you had on Baela and felt yourself slowly falling from Moondancer's back.

Quickly, you looked towards Jace, but all you could distinguish was the eyes of the man you loved, the love of your life, full of tears and fear. So much fear.

You never did comprehend when you received a second strike. Another arrow protruded from your back when you finally fell into Jace's arms.

Your prince held you tightly in his warm embrace, stroking your hair, which was full of water and sweat, having come undone from the braid in which you had tied it.

“Why?” he begged with sobs. “Why are the gods so evil, so cruel as to take from me the one thing, the only thing I ever craved in my life? Why did you have to be so brave, yet so stubborn?”

You tried to smile but the pain threatened every part of your body, making the act difficult.

“They are not cruel.” You reminded him. “They made me worthy to help you. And that is what counts. That is my own wish.”

His voice cracked in his next words. “I would have made it. Damn it, Y/N, I would have made it. I would have wiped out the fleet, I would have sent my brothers to Pentos, I would have returned to our family. Why couldn't you just stay home?”

With difficulty you answered him. “I couldn't let you risk your life while I would be behind the walls of Dragonstone, secure. I needed to help you.”

The ships were now retreating. The enemies knew that they had lost.

But for Jace, the only one who had lost was himself.

“And what of our children?” he asked, hugging you closer. “Aerys and Aerea? What will I tell them when they ask about their mother? That I let her die while in the process I saved my own skin?”

What of our children? you had asked too, some hours ago.

This time, despite the pain washing over you, you smiled, even with bloody teeth. “You will tell them that their mother died protecting the one thing she loved as much as them. The one human. You will tell them that I was fearless and that whatever I did, I did it for them.”

Your beautiful, tragic husband continued to cry, and in truth, you had never seen such a beautiful sight before. It was the best way to die.

Hesitantly you raised your hand and wiped the wet matter away. Without hesitation, Jace leaned into your palm and began to calm down.

“I love you.” He whispered to you with affection, placing his forehead against your own. “My mind and my heart, my whole body shatters at the thought of what is about to happen in the next few moments. You are the sun of my day and the moon of my night. You are the blossoms that fill the meadows, the snow that calms me down when I slowly die inside. You are my everything.”

A tear rolled from your eye. “And you are mine.”

Jace bent down and captured your lips between his with passion, as if he was never going to see you again. And the truth was, he wasn't going to.

When he stood up, all he faced was your empty eyes.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The flight to Dragonstone was silent, the echo of victory forgotten.

​Baela rode ahead, unable to speak to Jace. She held herself responsible for what happened to you, for your unfair loss, and for her step-brother’s grief.

​Not that he would have answered, lost in thoughts of your sudden death. He was thinking of your children, the 4-year-old twins you both loved more than anything. Aerys, who was so much like you, calm and sweet, yet strong at the same time. Aerea, who had your eyes, your beauty, and your purity.

​He was thinking of your brother, Cregan. He had promised him that he wouldn't let anything bad happen to you, that no obstacle would stand between you and a long life. Your early death symbolized his failure to keep his oath.

​He thought of his mother, who had refused to give her approval for the operation from the very beginning.

​He thought of himself, who despite winning, should have listened to you and stayed home.

​But above all, he thought of you. How you smiled at him every morning, lying in the soft sheets of your bed, your hair scattered over the velvet pillow you refused to part with. How every morning you left quickly to make sure you were the first to say good morning to the twins when they woke up. How you loved his own siblings, how you wept for Luke's unfair death, how you even felt sad for Aemond's downfall, who had treated you kindly when you met him at a young age. How openly you loved him, as if he were the pinnacle of life on earth.

​The thoughts nearly suffocated him, but they stopped abruptly when Vermax set him down on the castle's parapet. He climbed down slowly from his saddle, holding you tightly in his arms.

​The first thing he saw was Rhaenyra.

​His mother hadn't noticed your body in his arms and was heading furiously toward him.

​"Are you mad?" she shouted at him, and Jace could hear both indignation and relief in her voice at the sight of him. "You disobeyed my orders, you left without my permission, you attempted to-"

​Suddenly, her voice left her. Jacaerys assumed she realized that what her son was holding in his arms was the empty shell of the woman she considered her daughter.

​"Jace." she said tentatively, looking at him from a distance.

​He looked at her too and saw that her eyes were welling up with tears.

​"She is dead." he said, shame overwhelming his throat. "She is dead because of me. When I announced my plans to her, I never expected she would go behind my back and try to follow me."

​The castle courtyard was empty, not a single echo. Not even when the rest of the help came out was the slightest sound heard.

​Only when the maesters approached Jace to take you from his arms did he start shouting angrily. "NO! LEAVE HER TO ME. SHE WAS BETTER THAN ALL OF YOU." He paused briefly. "And I failed her."

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

After his outburst in the courtyard, all he wanted to do was take your body and leave. To leave, to go far away to Pentos, Tyrosh, Lys, or Yi Ti, and find someone who could bring you back, someone who could restore you to how you were just a few hours ago.

​Safe and in his arms.

​But that would be improper and against your wishes. You were someone who believed in the laws of nature, in the belief that the human body is mortal and will soon return to the place it came from.

​You never agreed with the dark magic promised by shadowy figures of other continents. You had been clear about this during the countless conversations you had shared.

​Entering your room, he laid you down on the bed and began removing the arrows that had pierced your soft skin. He wouldn't allow the maesters to steal the few remaining minutes he had in your presence.

​To his dread and surprise, your wounds were still bleeding. The blood fell onto your bed, staining your white sheets. They were your favorites, and he cursed himself for taking even that away from you.

​As he was tending to your wounds, the room's door suddenly burst open.

​Startled, he turned toward the deafening sound of the wood and came face-to-face with your children.

​Aerea popped out, full of joy, and ran to her father, opening her arms wide to embrace him. Even though he felt a bit numb, Jace lowered himself to her height and held her in his arms.

​"Kepa." said your reflection, her black curls freshly washed. Jace cursed himself for noticing this, because the oil she used smelled just like yours. He forced himself not to break down in tears.

​"My love." Jace replied, trying his best to smile. If Aerea noticed the red circles inside his eyes, she didn't mention it.

​"I'm so glad you're back. I got tired of playing with Elinda all the time. I missed you." She raised her small hand and pushed back a strand of hair that fell into her eyes.

​The gesture was an exact copy of yours too. His eyes blurred, and he bit his tongue hard to hold back the tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.

​"I missed you too." he said, his voice choked. "Now that I'm back, I plan on never leaving you again. Nor your brother."

​Aerys remained silent near the door.

​"That's what I hoped for." his daughter said with a smile, before turning her gaze past him. Jace followed her eyes before looking back at her.

​"What are you looking for, Aerea?" he asked, even though he was dreading the answer.

​"Where is Mother?"

​"She’s gone, isn’t she? Mother," Aerys interjected unexpectedly.

​Jace withered. He didn't know how to lie; he had never been good at it.

​"She is." he admitted, and this time he could not restrain a tear that hung from his eyelids.

Aerea looked upon him with utter wonder. "What do you mean? Gone where? Gone to the North to see uncle Cregan?"

Jace almost sobbed.

"She is dead." whispered his son, and Aerea turned to behold him. "I saw it in my dream. The shafts pierced her armor."

His little girl remained frozen, motioning not within his arms. "I understand not." She said softly. "Where is mother?"

Jace knew he must prove strong. "She’s in a much better place. Her body is still here with us, but her soul has left for the heavens."

Aerea began to weep, and Aerys approached to hold her hand, giving his other to his father. Jace squeezed it.

"Why did she go to the heavens? And why did she not take us as well? Did she not love us?"

Jace willed himself literally to perish. "No, no, she loved you very much. So greatly that she chose to depart to the heavens to protect you."

Aerea sobbed. "Why protect us from there? Why not stay here with us?"

"She was bound to, do you understand? She was bound to be there, to watch over you and everything that happens to you both from above and remove from your path every malevolent obstacle. Now, she can see everything. And for this, you shall always be safe and sound."

"But I want my mother." She wept with all her soul, and Jace held both his children against his chest so that they might release their sorrow. It was the sole thing he could do, and he knew it was not enough.

A little time elapsed, until Aerea fell asleep. Jace summoned one of your ladies to take her to her chamber. Yet Aerys remained.

"Don’t worry, father. It was her choice." said his son comfortingly.

Jace looked upon him miserably. "Was it?"

The little one nodded. "She visited me in my sleep when I saw the dream of doom. She made me swear that I would mention none of it to anyone, save only to tell you after it came to pass. She knew you would blame yourself. Yet it was the last thing she desired. Mother loved you. Her spirit continues to love you through us."

And these very words were what impelled Jace not to abandon the struggle. To continue living for your children and for you, who sacrificed yourself for your family.

He would live for you. He would laugh for you. He would prevail in this war for you.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

The ending was kinda bad, but oh well.

"wrong shirt..." he grumbled, moving his arms in order to keep the sleeves from constricting his arms so much.

"take it off," you instructed softly, laughing as he raised his arms again. "i don't want you stretching it out."

he looked in the mirror again, meeting your eyes as you reached out towards him. he turned with a grin, stepping to you and letting you grab his hands and pull him closer, the boy nearly bumping into your knees. you tugged at the edges of the stretchy shirt, smiling up at him.

he let out a slow chuckle, leaning down slightly to look at you and grabbing your hands. "well, why are you allowed to wear my clothes if i'm not allowed to wear yours?"

"because," you whined, the word dragging slowly from your lips. "you're stretching it."

"and now you're calling me fat," he accused with a breathy laugh, the amused smile on his lips making your heart jump and your eyes roll.

"i'm calling you big. that's a good thing, love," you answered. you squeezed his hands before pulling at the shirt again. "so please, jacaerys, my love - take it off."

he breathed out a laugh, stepping back as he eyed you. he reached down and took hold of the hem, pulling it over his head, exposing his upper half.

there was an instant redness that flushed your cheeks, your gaze going from his abs to his eyes in moments, embarrassment riddled in your smile.

you held his hands for a few moments, trying to keep your eyes in his, and actively failing. he laughed as you struggled to keep your eyes from roaming, your blush deepening and a scoff exiting your lips. you finally pushed him back, turning in your chair back to the pictures you were editing.

“go away. just because you’re hot doesn’t mean you can make it an issue,” you mumbled as your blush deepened, beginning to click away on the editing software for the pictures you and your best friend had taken the weekend before.

he grinned, following your movements and pressing his chest into your back as he hooked his chin over your shoulder. he pressed a kiss to the side of your head, mumbling in your ear: "is that so?"

you made a half effort to push him away, hand remaining on his chest as you rolled your eyes.

"you're exposed jace. put on a shirt - one of your own this time."

he could see the small smile pulling at her lips and the way her touch lingered definitely inclined him to another opinion. he smirked. "why would i do that when you're clearly enjoying the view?"

you blushed deeper, but finally gained some of your confidence, turning in his direction and feeling his breath on your skin. you looked him up and down, eyes lingering on the toned muscles of his abs, but more so on the lean lines of his biceps. you loved his arms, and you loved how vascular they were as well.

you trailed your fingers up his arms, resting on his biceps as you smiled up at him.

“you have a point.” you hummed. “but, you wanted these pictures to post and i won’t get them finished if you do not put on a shirt.”

he leaned down with a grin, lips hovering over yours as he steadied himself on the arms of your chair. your hands remained on his now tense arms, heart pulsing at the smile on his lips.

"i don't need the pictures tonight. i'm happy to post later," he hummed. he grinned as you eyed him.

"i'm not happy to post them later," you said, turning the chair suddenly and causing him to stumble, catching himself on the back of it. he was quick to recover, propping himself up as she worked on the photos. he hummed as he leaned to press a kiss to her neck, earning a laugh. "don't think you're gonna get something after wearing my clothes. you're not allowed to wear my clothes."

"oh, but i love taking them off," he said with a teasing smirk.

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

thanks for reading! leave a request in the comments or message me privately! i love writing, so if you've got an idea you need fleshed out on paper i'd love to be the one to do that for you

"are you sure?" you asked.

"positive. you'll never forgive yourself if you don't go," he said, squeezing your hand comfortingly. "i think you should go."

and so you'd clicked that 'accept' button and shipped off to northern italy a month later.

you sent pictures of everything when you arrived, and a video of you and your roommate lisy who was studying in america at nyu originally. she was the most bubbly person you'd ever met and you loved her instantly.

jace responded in kind with his own pictures; the boys on the football pitch, 0.5's of cregan and aegon and benji, pouting selfies of him in the kitchen pointing at a burnt plate of who know's what? you got a voice memo each morning of him mumbling "i love you, have a great day," which you answered with a wide smile.

lisy teased you relentlessly, wondering after each picture, "is that going to the boy?" which you always had to reply honestly and say it was. she met him over facetime several times and he told you he was glad that you had her in italy, even though he wished he was there instead.

"she seems excitable," he laughed once she left your bedroom. you giggled, falling on your bed with the phone to your face.

"the most excitable," you told him. "i love her. she's made the transition a lot easier. but, i still miss you like hell."

"i miss you too," he hummed with a half smile. "even cregan misses you. we don't eat nearly as well with you gone."

"well be sure to stock up before i come home and i'll make you something," you told him, smiling at the compliment of your cooking.

"deal," he said with a grin. the screen shook as he moved on his bed, a yawn escaping his lips.

"when do you have class tomorrow?" you asked.

"eight," he sighed.

you gasped. "jace! you need to go to bed, it's like one in the morning."

"i'm fine, love. i'd rather talk to you," he said, but the daze in his eyes as he resisted another yawn said something else.

"go to bed, jacaerys," you told him sternly, smiling at the boy.

"it's like two in the morning over there, why aren't you going to bed?" he asked lazily.

"me and lisy are going sightseeing tomorrow and we don't have a wake up time," you said, a smirk on your lips as his eyes widened. he groaned dramatically.

"that's so not fair. i have to go to class and you're touring italy," he whined.

"should've come with me," you hummed.

"we both know i never would've gotten in. i'm terrible in english, i'll stick to history," he answered.

"then go to bed," you said, a smile still on your lips as he sighed heavily.

"fine," he droned. he looked more intently at the screen to you, smiling softly. "i love you."

"i love you too, j," you said, reciprocating his sweet smile. "sweet dreams, love."

"you too. goodnight."

"goodnight."

"i've never seen a place like this before," lisy gasped, looking all around the sweet little market you'd found yourself in. you giggled, beginning to file through a few of the notecards sitting on an antique table.

"jace's mom used to take me places like this all the time," you told her. "she doesn't have a daughter and is a serious shopaholic, so i got dragged to all sorts of places."

"ugh, i would've loved that!" she said.

"i did," you answered, following her to the home decor section. "i reckon as soon as i go home for the holidays she'll have all sorts of markets and boutiques for us to go to. are you going home? maybe you could come with!"

"i can't afford the fare to america to spend only a week home," she answered. "but, i guess england's only a few hours from here, huh?"

"you should come! if we buy the tickets now they'll be cheap," you said eagerly. "i have an apartment back home that i'm sharing with my two best friends, though one of them moved into my room. you could stay with us! you'd love them, we'd have loads of fun."

"okay," she agreed with a smile. "it's a plan. now, can we please buy these pillows?"

she held up two blue and cream pillows with little floral designs on them. you reached for the tag hanging off one corner and flipped it over, gasping when you spotted the number printed on it.

"forty euros!"

"that's not that bad," she said, waving you away.

"each!" you reemphasized, but she shrugged, carrying them with her as she continued to the baking section.

"worth it!" she called over her shoulder, earning a laugh from you as you followed her.

you had jace on speaker as you worked your way around the kitchen.

"i mean, if he'd just get a grip he'd realize that she likes him too," you said louder than normal for it to reach the phone. you heard jace sigh dramatically as you began mixing the cream cheese icing you were going to put on the cinnamon rolls as soon as they came out of the oven.

"that's what i've been saying!" he said. "but luke is so stuck in his own head. i mean, he's a weird bloke, sure, but she's into that apparently."

"luke is a cute kid, don't say that," you told him.

"well, he does look like me, he is my brother."

"oh, shut up jace," you laughed.

"oh, you're talking to jace?" lisy asked as she entered the kitchen, sticking a finger into your icing to lick off as she turned back to where your phone was charging. "HELLO JACAERYS!"

"wow, hello to you too lisy!" he chuckled. "nearly broke my ear there."

"i try," she said with a shrug, eyes on your phone. "you've been on the phone for three hours?"

"don't judge," you told her. "it's boring baking by myself."

"it took you three hours to make your cinnamon rolls?" she asked.

"and cake pops," you answered.

"ooh, where?" she asked with an eager smile.

"setting in the fridge, don't touch them yet," you laughed. she looked back at your phone as jace apparently moved his, the sound crunching through your speakers.

suddenly, her eyes widened and her face paled. she clicked your phone as jace started talking again.

"gods, do i miss cake pops. what flavor, love? strawberry?"

"uh, yeah," you said slowly, crossing the small kitchen to grab your phone from your roommate, brows knitted in a silent question. she flashed your phone screen at you, brows raised high as she pointed at a little green text.

-what r u doing tonight?

"who the hell is that?" she whispered.

"who is who?"

"nothing, jace. just some guy in my creative writing class who's asking me what i'm doing tonight," you said. you grabbed your phone, beginning to type out a response.

"and what are you doing tonight?" jace asked slowly.

"certainly nothing to do with him," you laughed. "probably watch a movie or something. maybe we can do the group watch thing on disney plus and watch the princess bride."

"i'm always down to watch princess bride with my future princess bride." you could hear the laugh on his tongue as he teased you and you giggled, lisy making a face of disgust.

"you two are gross," she said. "anyways, is the guy cute? i'm not doing anything tonight."

"his name is liam and he's kind of a jerk," you told her, scrunching your nose. "kept interrupting class with his stupid, slightly offensive jokes about our professor's teaching methods and then when we had to write a short narrative as a group he did no work."

"you didn't answer my question; is he cute?" she emphasized, a grin on her lips.

"i think you'd think he was cute," you finally told her, your grimace still on your lips. "i can tell him you'll go if you want."

"yes please," she said dramatically. "i'll go get ready."

"you don't even know what you're doing!" you called as she sprinted to her room.

"whatever!"

"she is a hoot," jace laughed through the phone.

"yes, yes she is," you answered with a giggle. you returned to your device, quickly telling the boy that your roommate was interested and copying her number. but, you hadn't sent it when he answered.

-i want to go with you. are you busy?

"the fuck?" you muttered, narrowing your brows.

"what?" jace asked quickly.

"this is just weird. he's being weird," you mumbled.

i'm hanging out with my boyfriend.

like i said, my roommate is free. this is her number if you want to text her about it

you waited for a response, getting increasingly annoyed that his texts were green and you couldn't watch him type.

"what'd he say?"

"that he wants to go with me. but, i said i was hanging out with my boyfriend and gave him her number, so hopefully he'll bugger off," you answered.

-do you and your boy wanna come?

you sighed. "guess not. he asked if we wanna go, and i really don't want to say that you don't exactly live in italy."

"then don't, just say no," jacaerys told you.

"alright," you mumbled.

can't sorry.

-next time for sure

you didn't answer that, instead returning to your icing. "i'm about done with my rolls if you want to send me the disney request."

"on it, love."

"who did you tell that my boyfriend doesn't live here?" you asked lisy quickly, brows raised. "liam will not leave me alone."

"what's he saying?" the girl asked with knitted brows.

"that jace doesn't need to know," you said before widening your eyes and throwing your hands in the air dramatically. "he's asking me to hook up!"

she gasped. "no way."

"yes way!" you groaned, falling on the couch.

"have you told jace?" she asked, sitting next to you.

"well, sure," you said. "he was on the phone when i got the text. and then when he started passing me notes in class i sent pictures to him."

"what'd he say?"

"that he'd fly down to punch him in the mouth if he tried anything," you answered with a sigh. "i can't wait to go home in a few days. i miss him."

"you've missed him since you got here," she laughed.

"i know," you laughed with her. "it sucks."

a knock on your door caught both your attentions.

"did you invite anyone over?" lisy asked you, brows furrowed.

"no. you didn't?"

"nope."

you stared at each other for a few moments before lisy shrieked, "nose goes!" and pressed her pointer finger to her nose before you even had the chance to do the same.

"cheater!" you cried.

"you have to get it!" she yelled with a laugh.

"shh," you said, holding a finger up as you stood and approached the door.

your face fell when you opened it and saw who it was. "liam."

"hi," the boy said with a cocky grin, hands tucked in the pockets of his hoodie jacket. "how are you?"

"fine..." you said slowly, brows scrunching in confusion. "how did you get my address?"

"oh, don't worry about it," he said, shrugging casually. "do you want to go get some food?"

"i have a boyfriend, you know this," you said strictly.

"doesn't mean you can't have a little fun," he said with a gross smile. "who knows what he's getting up to while you're gone? don't you think you should be able to do the same?"

"i actually do know what he's doing while i'm gone and it's nothing close to this. no thank you, liam," you told him, hand on the door as you went to push it closed. he caught it, eyes softening as he peered at you.

"please? i promise not to do anything," he tried. you furrowed your brows.

"no," you said, your response the most obvious thing to both you and lisy who was watching behind you protectively. "i still don't trust you and i still have a boyfriend. go home."

"oh come on-"

"go home!" lisy yelled, pushing the door shut. you locked it before turning to her gratefully. she settled back on one foot, brows furrowed as she stared at the door for a few moments. "he really wasn't that cute."

you laughed lightly before walking towards your room.

"where are you going?"

"i have to tell jace, he'll never believe this!"

jacaerys didn't know you were coming home for the holidays. you'd told him some ridiculous lie about having finals too close to christmas and that there was a big new years party that you didn't want to miss and he believed you. he said he wasn't mad, that you should live up your life in italy.

little did he know you were absolutely tired of italy and more than ready to jump back in his arms.

baela and alysanne picked you up from the airport with excited screams, hugging you tightly as you laughed joyously.

"my girls!" you cheered. "how are you?!"

"fantastic now that you're here," alys said with a smile. she scrunched her brows. "where's your friend?"

"she decided she did have enough money to go home," you answered with a shrug and a smile. "it's all the same - i get to be home with you guys!"

"ugh, i'm so glad you're back," baela said. "so much has happened."

"since i talked to you last week?"

"oh, you don't know the half of it," she sighed dramatically, grabbing your arm as she and alysanne dragged you out to your car. "so addam..."

you saw rhaenyra before you saw jace, the woman capturing you in a warm, tight hug as soon as she laid eyes on you. baela slipped in behind you with a laugh and made her way upstairs to her room.

"look at you!" rhaenyra said with a gasp. "you look so beautiful! i'm so glad you're here."

"me too," you said with a laugh light on your breath. "thank you for letting me over."

"anytime, my dear, anytime," she insisted, smiling widely as she led you further into the house. she left your side to begin pulling chicken from the fridge, allowing space for her children to spot you.

soon enough, you had viserys and aegon clinging to your sides and joffrey patiently waiting his turn at the entrance to the kitchen. you laughed, kneeling down to hug them all properly, waving joff over once you finished with aegon.

"how are you all?" you asked excitedly.

"good!" the three cheered.

"i made a gingerbread house out of graham crackers," joffrey said proudly. "do you want to see it?"

"of course i do," you told him, your smile widening. "but, i think i have to go see jace first. do you know where he is?"

as the littles shook their heads, rhaenyra said, "he just left to his room."

"awesome," you said, standing and taking a step towards the staircase. you pointed at joffrey. "me and jace will be down in a few minutes to see your gingerbread house, okay?"

"okay!" he said happily.

you turned and quickly made your way up the carpeted steps, heading down the hallway you knew like the back of you hand. you approached his door slowly, hand resting on the handle as you raised your knuckles to rap gently on the wood.

"come in," he called from inside, causing your heart to jump and a smile to pull at your lips. you pushed the door open, seeing him seated at his desk with a notebook in front of him, though his attention was on his phone.

"hey," you said gently.

he looked up quickly, his eyes widening as he abandoned his phone and flew from his seat. he wrapped his arms around your torso, you barely managing to get your arms out to wrap around his neck before he squeezed you tightly, his momentum sending you both into the wall. you laughed loudly, hugging him back with one hand raking through his curls as he nuzzled into your neck, pressing a few kisses there before he mumbled into your skin.

"what are you doing here? why didn't you tell me?"

"i wanted to surprise you," you told him, pulling him back enough to see his beautiful coffee brown eyes. his smile was the widest you'd seen it as he leaned in and captured you for a quick, but deep kiss. he pulled away, hugging you tightly to him once more, kissing your cheek, jaw, and neck in quick little pecks, his energy vivid and sporadic as he held you close.

"this is the best surprise, love," he told you, pulling away to kiss you again. "i love you so much. i missed you so much." he kissed you again, not giving you a chance to respond as you giggled lightly. he pulled back, eyes raking over your face and then your form, drinking you in for only a few seconds before he muttered, "gods, you're beautiful." his mouth returned to your own when you heard a door open.

you pulled back, tucking yourself in jace's side as you turned to see luke standing in his doorway with an unimpressed quirk of his brow and baela standing in hers with her phone up.

"really? i don't even get a hello before i'm subjected to you making out?" he asked. you laughed, slipping from jace's grasp to give his little brother a hug.

"hi luke," you told him.

"hello y/n," he hummed, laughing lightly when you pulled back and rolled your eyes. you turned your attention to baela, who's phone was still pointed at you.

"i got that whole thing on camera," she said with a giggle. "super cute, it's gonna go viral."

"you can't post it!" you cried, laughing as you reached for the device. she pulled it out of your reach, stepping back into her room and beginning to push the door closed.

"it's my video!" she laughed. "go back to your boyfriend!"

when her door shut and lucerys snuck between you two to descend the stairs, you did go back to your boyfriend. you snuggled into his grasp, sighing contentedly as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

"i missed you."

"i missed you too."

"let's go out tonight," he suggested, his chin settling comfortable on the top of your head as you leaned into him.

"where are you thinking?"

"just some food and a drive. i'll drive if we can take your car." you could hear the smile and you sighed, grinning yourself.

"i guess..."

"alright, where should we go?"

"italy doesn't have nando's."

"well, then we have to get you some nando's."

by the time that you'd escaped his house - having to stop for joffrey's graham cracker gingerbread house, a brief coaching session with luke on how to flirt with the girl he likes over text, and to attempt to convince daemon that the italians did in fact think you had a good accent when you spoke italian even though he thought otherwise - it was well past dark.

you giggled as jace held your door open and shut it after you, crossing to the other side to slip into the driver's side. he started up the crappy old ford with a wide grin, handing you the aux cable immediately.

"we need to get you a bluetooth adapter," he hummed as he pulled out of the neighborhood. "my phone doesn't even plug into that one anymore."

"you got a new phone?" you asked, clicking on the same album you always played when you were with jace. you listened to it a lot when you were alone in italy, lights out and lisy off with friends, just missing your boy.

"yeah. i'm still on mum's family plan and everyone got an upgrade for some promotional. i don't know if i like it yet," he admitted with a shrug. "it did make facetiming you easier. my battery didn't die as fast, and for that i love it."

"that's nice. i was always plugged in while talking to you," you told him with a laugh. he grabbed your hand over the middle console, shooting you a smile. "it was worth it, though."

"i'm just so glad you're actually here now. i was certain this was going to be the worst holiday i've had yet, but now you're here with me, so it'll be the best," he said. "are you coming over for christmas or will you be with your family?"

"no, dad's off with his witch girl and my siblings are at my grandparents'. your mum offered for me to stay here with you guys for the whole holiday," you answered. he grinned, squeezing your hand.

"are you going to? or do you want to be with alysanne?" he asked.

"i mean, if you don't mind seeing me literally 24/7 i would actually love to stay with you guys," you replied with a small smile. "i love your family."

"and they love you," he said. "stay. i'm pretty sure everyone would be ecstatic if you did."

"alright, i will," you agreed, your heart fluttering a bit at the thought of it. you were always welcomed at the targaryen household, but to be spending christmas with them? that was a new level of love.

after he parked, he leaned over the console to kiss you again, earning a slight giggle as you kissed him back. he pulled back just enough to grin at you before kissing you again, his free hand brushing over your cheek gently. you pulled away finally, staring at him with an incredulous sort of love.

"let's get food," you insisted, turning to get out. he pulled on your hand, making you to turn back to him. he shook his head and quickly exited the vehicle, coming to your side in a moment and opening your door. you hopped out with a wide smile, accepting his hand again when you came chest to chest with the boy. "you're the perfect gentleman."

"only for you," he said, wiggling his brows as he shut the door and pulled you towards nando's.

as you stood in line, talking about how aemond started posting the same girl on his stories recently, you people watched. you always liked to see who was out to get chicken at nine o'clock at night. nando's seemed to have the wildest people, from a man wearing a tshirt that read 'danny dorito' with danny davito's face on a dorito, to a chick waiting by the doors with a chihuahua in a stroller. and then there was the weirdest one -

liam.

"shit, what?" you said quickly, brows furrowing as you stepped behind jace. he looked up from your phone where you'd previously been viewing aemond's story highlights, immediately scanning the room for what could've incited such a reaction from you.

"what is it?" he asked, his hold on your hand tightening. the line moved up and you stayed behind him, the man understanding your attempts and keeping you out of sight of whatever it was you were nervous about. "love, what is it?"

"remember that liam guy i kept telling you about? that came to my house and kept hitting on me in class? he's here," you told him, peeking around his arm to see if he was still sat with the three boys you saw him with.

"what the hell?" he muttered, eyes narrowing on the kid. "we'll just get our food to go. i'd rather not risk meeting him."

"i thought you said you'd beat him up for me?" you asked with a light giggle.

"if he comes us and starts something then of course. but, i don't start fights, darling, i finish them," he told you. you grinned as you pulled him further up the line, ordering once you reached the register.

as jace began paying, you glanced back at where liam had been, your curiosity getting the best of you. your brows furrowed when you didn't spot the boy - he'd just been there a moment before.

"thank you," jacaerys told the cashier with a charming smile before stepping back next to you, hand grabbing yours as he pulled you to fill your drinks. the nando's workers were speedy tonight, holding your bag out as jace rushed by, the boy grabbing it with a thanks. he eyed you carefully. "what's wrong?"

"nothing, i just-"

"y/n!"

you both turned quickly, brows knitted tightly at the call of your name.

of course, it was liam.

"liam," you said slowly, nodding as you eyed him. "hi."

liam approached with a wide grin, a strange swagger in his step. you pursed your lips as you watched him. jace pulled you closer to him, his grip tightening slightly.

"crazy to see you here," liam drawled, his grin making your skin crawl. his eyes flashed to jacaerys. "is this the boyfriend you've been talking about?"

"yes. this is jacaerys," you said shortly, not bothering to introduce your classmate.

"pleasure to meet you jacaerys," liam hummed, holding a hand out to him. jace clasped it securely, a straight look on his face as he eyed him with a steel gaze. "i'm liam."

"alright," jace said.

"me and y/n go to school in italy together," he continued.

"alright," jace said again, releasing his hand with a slight shove. "good to meet you, mate. if you'll excuse us, we've got to get going."

"why don't you join me and my friend bobby? we're heading to a party later tonight with some college friends, you should come," liam offered.

"no thanks," you said quickly, glancing at jace with an unintelligible look in your eyes. "we've got plans."

"you've always got plans, don't you sweetheart," liam sighed, turning your attention back to him. your furrowed your brows again.

"sorry?"

"every time i invite you out, you refuse. i'm just being friendly."

"and i'm perfectly friendly when i say no. it's alright for you to accept that i don't want to hang out with you, liam."

"ouch," he said, a grin still slipping off the side of his lips as he held a hand to his heart. "you don't want to hang out with me?"

"i think she's made that clear," jace told him, stepping towards him. "now, like i said before; we've got to get going."

he didn't wait for a response before dragging you away to the drinks station, filling both your cups quickly, and pulling you back to the car. "i see what you mean," he muttered as he helped you in your side.

"he's kinda pushy," you answered, accepting the bag of steaming food before he shut your door and crossed to his side. he sat down with a sigh, starting the car up.

"just a bit."

"let's get out of here."

you sung along to the playlist you were used to, the one you'd curated with jace when you first started dating and began these drives, and the one you listened to the most while in italy and missing him desperately. a mix between enthusiastic songs you weren't afraid to belt out and slow, sweet songs that varied from taylor swift and old american country artists, your playlist had everything.

eventually, he pulled off to the side of the peak of the Rim, a mountain range not too far out from his parents' house and one you frequented over the last almost two years of dating. he pulled you out of the old ford and onto the roof, the bag of nando's in your hand.

you chatted while you ate, random nonsense and updates of luke's love life that he'd failed to mention in your regular facetimes.

"joffrey's even got a girlfriend now," he hummed with a cheeky grin, laughing as you gasped and pushed his shoulder.

"he does not!" you cried, eyes wide. "but, he's so little!"

"he's twelve," jace shrugged. "we all had girlfriends and boyfriends at that age. you 'go out' for a day or two and be done with it."

"and is he done with it?" you asked.

"no," he admitted, laughing loudly before he continued. "he bought her a peppermint teddy for christmas. she told him she was jewish and he was mortified, but she said she'd take it for hanukkah. he spent all week trying to convince mum and daemon to let him buy her six more presents to go along."

"i thought there were eight?" you asked.

"either way," he said with a shrug. "mum said no. he'd already spent his whole allowance on the teddy and we still had to draw for family secret santa."

"who'd you get?" you asked with a soft smile.

"actually, i was hoping for your help on that. i got baela."

"oh, i can definitely help with that," you said, a giggle following your words.

you sat in contented silence for another few moments, finishing the rest of your meals before jace spoke again.

"i didn't like the way he was looking at you."

you looked at him quickly, eyes softening in realization of what he meant. you leaned into his side, holding his arm gently. "me neither. but, i doubt it'll happen again - i think you intimidated him."

"it won't happen again," he said, the words so sure, so definite that it made you furrow your brows.

"i'm sure," you agreed, determining to say nothing more on the matter.

another silence passed over you as jace considered his words, looking down on you with a soft smile and a certain resolve.

"i'm studying with you next semester."

"what?" you asked quickly, pulling away to look at him with a wide smile. "you are? you're coming to italy?"

"well, now that the football season is over i can. i spoke with admissions and they agreed it'd be a good experience. i start next term with you," he said, smiling at you so sweetly. "and well, i couldn't leave you with the likes of liam for another semester. i don't think i could handle that."

"thank you," you sighed, tucking into his side with a neverending smile. "i love you."

"i love you too."

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