Their time together increased when they realized what they could lose in this war. The meals they took in the morn were held in each other’s chambers— unless called to dine with his mother. They’ve gone as far as laying in the same bed together to find enough comfort for sleep. They couldn’t find it in them to care when scrutinizing looks came from the lords, knowing their intentions with each other were completely innocent.

Though the weight of their loss cloud their judgment one evening…

They didn’t go as far as taking her maidenhead, yet the night they shared was one of passion—an escape from their sorrow. While he looks down on his uncle’s crude words he needn’t hear at that dinner table, he couldn’t deny the divine pleasure he had just experienced. Rivaling that of riding his dragon for the first time. Suppose he wasn’t that far off.

The morn came quickly with Baela’s chamber doors opening unexpectedly— Rhaenyra came in with Baela’s handmaiden, Elyse, to serve food after missing them at breakfast. Their flushed faces, mussed curls and unruly clothes told her of their nightly affairs and while Rhaenyra disapproved of their doings, she did not blame them for seeking comfort at a time like this. Although, that didn’t stop her from awkwardly handing Baela a cup of moon tea despite not knowing of how they did things, nor did she want to ask.

They assured his mother that would be the end of it. Yet found themselves in a mare’s nest when they met you..

A daughter born of low birth is already an unlucky fate, one born out of wedlock is even worse.

You were born with a white tuff on your head, and your mother knew you were more exposed to the world than ever and tried to protect you until winter fever caught her. She knew coin for medicine was scarce thus her decision to succumb to her sickness, relieving you of the burden of spending any more coin on a hopeless cause. Though you were relieved of the responsibility of taking care of your ailed mother, you were now left in a world that held nothing but injustice for you. A bastard.

Now here you were, years later, still stuck in this decrepit town that is Fleabottom— one your mother told you your father ruled over. If ‘ruling over’ meant gambling money in gambling dens and sampled whores for free in brothels—a brothel of which your mother worked in, and now at your age of two and three, you worked in. Fortunately for you, your labor wasn’t that of what women would usually have in a brothel. The owner, Walt, had recognized you as one of his worker’s children and bore the burden to keep you. He told you of your mother’s obsession toward Targaryens, which led you to believe she was lying about who your father truly was.

You were off to the brothel when you heard the silence of the usual busy streets.

“Behold! the traitor dragon, Meleys!” ”SLAIN AT ROOK’S REST BY YOUR KING!”

You scoffed at the sentence, until you realized the words spoken. You stare warily at the wagon parading the decapitated head of Red Queen- a massive box trailing behind it. The smallfolk stare at the god that had fallen, most of them bowing while some were too riddled with shock, only one thing in their minds; a dark omen. The rest of the day was filled with unease after what they had seen. The brothel was livelier than it was, yes, yet when you studied your clients’ behaviors, they all seemed rather hasty— not from the mead or ale you have served them, nor was it out of lust. Putting you even more on edge than when you heard the whispers of Queen Rhaenyra and her call for Targaryen bastards to go to Dragonstone among them.

Your prayers of ignoring the looming dread of war were unanswered when you were settling in for the night and Walt had entered your private quarters above the brothel with supper. He had always held the opinion that you deserved more than what you were given in life, though you believed he’d simply said that given that he raised you. Hence why when he heard that Rhaenyra was in need of a dragon rider, he immediately thought to tell you knowing that you would simply brush it off. He was proven correct when he was faced with your immediate protests the moment he stepped through the doors.

“They could make you a lady.” He persisted even as you finished your supper, you smirked into your cup, taking a sip of mead from your mug. “If I were a lady I wouldn’t be able to go to brothels freely.” “You don’t want to be a lady so you can keep whoring around?” he laughed incredulously, snatching the mug from your hands. You playfully clutched your non-existent pearls. ”My, you don’t think I’d want to see you again?” You chuckled, yet it seemed as though he got tired of the back and forth.

“You used to dream about riding your own dragon.” The playful air of the conversation shifts when you remember why you wanted a dragon. Days of your childhood looking up in wonder at the dragons soaring above your head. Wondering what it’d be like to be atop one of those creatures— your dream of taking your mother and flying across the Free Cities and starting anew.

“Look,” he sighed, taking your dirty dinnerware, “I know you’re not satisfied with the life you’ve lived here.” you looked at him silently, your brows knitting together the more he talked, “And don’t try to deny shit—I raised you.”

”Drowning yourself with ale, women and men isn’t going to fill that hole in your life.” And your lips twitch at that sentence considering there’s a hole that each of those could fill, but you were silenced with his stare. “I know you want to make something of your life, and it’s not gonna happen unless you make the first move.” And with that, he closed the door behind him, leaving you to lose yourself in your thoughts.

It wasn’t the fear of facing a dragon stopping you; what if you do take the initiative and you fail doing so? Wouldn’t that just prove everything you’ve heard your entire life? While you weren’t one to care for other people’s judgements of your lifestyle, you weren’t entirely proud of what you’ve done with your life either. Apparently the only thing you had to worry about when you arrived at Dragonstone was the Prince and Princess of the island.

It seems as though the tragedies they’ve endured were not enough to satisfy the Gods. Within a week they lost their grandmother, Rhaenys, and Jacaerys’ world comes crashing down when Addam of Hull— Corlys’ bastard—claims a dragon. He loses his only argument for his claim to the throne: his dragon. He couldn’t deny his mother’s logic, they could not win this war without these people after losing Meleys. He only wished she’d listen to him and not that strange woman.

Unsurprisingly, Baela did.

Not only did she listen to him, she made him realize that moping around would only prove the opinions of those who believe he is not deserving of the Targaryen name. She had also informed him of you, the girl who claimed Vermithor. Yet he still refused when Baela suggested to meet you. Regardless, he was glad to have another woman around in a castle for Baela after her sister was sent away. Despite his efforts to keep his distance from the dragonseeds, he was unfortunately greeted with Ulf’s filthy feet sitting carelessly atop the painted table.

He was so consumed with annoyance that he didn’t notice your presence until you reaffirmed his royal position to the man and when he turned to face you, his thoughts got jumbled, his eyes struggling to stray away from you, but his mask was back up when you spoke up after watching Ulf fumble agitating the Prince further.

“Forgive him, my Prince, he is not used to the manners at court.” Your smooth voice carries an underlying annoyance for the man in front of you as well; having met before and watching him continue to disregard propriety has ticked you. He had also frequented the tavern-brothel you worked at and you weren’t one to hold back on finding pleasure when you needed it. Hence why you thought Ulf could spout your very colorful reputation and have Vermithor taken away from you.

“Or any manners at all, I’d say.” His hardened words were directed at Ulf, and with a few more less than savory words, Ulf had finally apologized, bending shakily on his knees before the prince before dismissing you with one look.

At least you thought you were.

“I wish to speak with you, girl.” Your steps halted in their place and you could see Ulf’s weary features. The prince waited until Ulf was out of earshot to address you, “Has my mother granted you permission to this room?” “I’m afraid not, my Prince—” “Then why are you here?” Taken aback by the attitude, you chuckle in disbelief— you recount all the things you’ve done and found nothing that could have possibly aggravated him; in fact, this would be the first time you found yourselves in a room together. You’re usually sharp with your words to people who do not respect you, but this was the Prince, so you forced yourself to take a deep breath, collecting your thoughts.

“I had stumbled upon this room looking for the Princess, your grace. My apologies for any offense I have caused.” You say through gritted teeth, struggling to maintain a facade of politeness, your annoyance only growing by the second. “Only one I cannot forgive.” His voice cold and firm, his ire sharpening his Valyrian features. “Your claiming of Vermithor.”

“Pardon me?”

“But now that you have,” he paused, “you’re merely a pawn to be used by mother to claim back her throne.” His eyes pierce through you in an effort to intimidate you, yet you only find yourself oddly captivated by them. Even though they were one of the reasons for his rumored bastardy. You tilting your head and observing him only seemed to spur his anger. He feels himself flush when your playful eyes roam his entire body up to his face, making him feel exposed and vulnerable despite his efforts to seem unaffected. Either you were toying with him or you were just as unruly as your fellow dragonseed. “Like you? Oh wait!” your playful gasp echoes in the empty room. “I forgot the Queen has you coddled inside this castle.”

It hits him like a slap in the face. “Why, you—”

“Will all do respect, my prince, if you wished for us to fight for your mother and your birthright, the least you could do is treat us with comradery.” And with that, you had curtsied with surprising grace, not waiting for his dismissal before you turned around and exited the room without haste. He was left standing stunned by the boldness of a lowborn girl. Though he was more surprised at the lack of offense he took from it—rather, he found himself intrigued.

And the need to find out more about you increased when attending the feast his mother held for the dragonseeds. There he saw you with proper attire sitting a chair away from Baela. Your hair rid of the ash and grime that had turned it gray. He had heard of you through Baela after your encounter in the council room, though he noticed that she did so reluctantly, a nervous tilt to her voice when she did so, probably painfully aware of his deep-seated insecurities.

If he had been paying attention instead of struggling to hide his clear indifference in having this meal, he would have noticed Baela’s shifty behavior, with her only acknowledging Addam. Instead, he kept his eyes forward yet unfocused, his jaw set, his knuckles turning white while gripping his silverware. He had done a good enough job of ignoring the dragonseeds until he caught wind of Ulf screeching at a servant to serve him more of his little birds. “A knight must hold himself with grace at the Queen’s table.” His mother had taken notice of the annoyance on not only his face but the rest of her guests and had tried to reprimand him. “Best make me a knight, then.” He smirks, making everybody in the room bristle in annoyance and a sharp glare directed at him by the princess, but before Jacaerys could retaliate, a scoff sounded across the room.

“Start acting like one, and perhaps she ought to.”

The scraping of silverware against platter echoes throughout the room; you have remained quiet the entire dinner, only talking when addressed. Walt wouldn’t believe his eyes if he could see you now. Walt had advised to keep you and your wanton activities to yourself to maintain a semblance of dignity. He knew all too well that your ‘big fat drunk mouth’, as he so eloquently put it, would be your undoing in such gatherings. However, as the night progresses and Ulf’s enthusiastic words are being thrown around, you find you don’t need ale to express your displeasure with one’s presence.

“Huh,” Ulf’s eyes sparkle with mischief; the knowingness in his eyes makes you straighten your spine—tension shows itself on your jaw, your knuckles turn white, bracing yourself for what he was to say. “If you had not claimed that dragon, I’d have thought you’d done what you do best and fucked your way into the castle, eh?” His elbow nudges yours playfully, chewing his food with a wide smile, it was clear he was jesting—an effort to rid of the tension in the room—yet all you felt was a pang of shame, forcing out a smile that resembled a grimace—humiliated in front of people you barely knew. You dared to look around the room, expecting to see horror that a whore was walking within these ancient halls, and yet, their gazes hadn’t left Ulf. Disbelief plastered on their faces at such language at a feast.

You worry for the Prince’s teeth at the tension that builds on his jaw. Noticing this, and to avoid something similar happening during the dinner at Kings Landing, Baela—the more level-headed of the two—intervened. ” ’Tis not wise to speak to a lady like that,” Her stiff smile accompanied her piercing eyes; it reminded you of a dragon taunting its prey. Daring it to make a move that would only lead to its demise. “Especially one who holds control over the Bronze Fury.”

Ulf only gulped in response, “Sense of humor would do you all good,” he said before taking a big swig from his goblet. Thank the gods, the conversation was cut off when Maester Gerardys had excused the Queen to inform her of something, and the table was left with an awkward silence, apart from Ulf, who continued to feast on his meal. After the Queen asked Addam to join her to Harrenhal the Prince stormed out the dinner hall. The Princess immediately ran after him, but not before turning to the rest of you and the servants, “You are all dismissed for the day.”

Maester Gerardys had informed you of studies you’re in need of learning to become a proper dragon lord. But Baela had taken it upon herself to teach you High Valyrian herself, she figured you of all people needed focused learning; with such a massive beast on your hands. She had met you on your way to Vermithor’s cave, carrying yourself with the same grace a dragon would, sure yet stealthy. She should’ve figured you’d be as stubborn as one too.

The library in Dragonstone was filled with quiet giggles for the first time since the war started, the rustling of parchment could be heard, yet the occupants have yet to pay attention to is contents; too busy recounting the events of your flight training, watching Ulf scream his lungs out when Vermithor playfully bit the air around Silverwing’s neck, while you thought it was just two dragon’s who were once owned by lovers getting reacquainted, Ulf seems to think otherwise. Every time she does try to keep a straight face and teach you, your giggle after you butchered the word would have her bursting out of laughter.

Eventually giving up for the day, she gives you leave to explore the library on your own, shooing you away when you attempted to help; ignoring the feeling of your calloused hands brushing against hers when you did so. She was stacking papers together to revisit on the morrow when she found her gaze wandering to your figure— exploring the vast room filled with knowledge you could have had in your life. Her eyes travel the strong line of your jaw, the faint flush on your cheek caused by laughter to your slightly chapped, plump lips you had constantly run your tongue over to rid of leftover wine on your lips. The flicker of candles littered around the room highlights your features, offering a contrast to the moonlight it had been bathed in.

“Do you think the Prince can find it in himself to forgive me, Princess?” While you appeared uncaring of the Prince’s words that day, you knew you should’ve thought twice than to jest around with a prince you had just met, and any attempt at apologizing you have made was met with his footsteps retreating from your own. So you turned your focus on the footsteps who actually seek you out— Princess Baela. Your question was left unanswered driving you to tear your gaze away from the parchment in front of you to look at her curiously— thinking she was pondering over answers to your question, yet you were faced with a flustered look on her face when she realized you caught her staring. “Hmm?”

Baela swiftly turns around with shaky hands to continue her cleaning, her heart pounding beneath her breast she feared you’d have heard it. Her voice unusually breathy and high pitched as she answered your question as though nothing happened. “The Prince is going through… um- he’s just holding the weight of- ahem,” She attempts to get rid of the shaking of her hand, and regain control of herself so she faces you, not expecting you to have moved closer. Her voice dies down to a breathless whisper as you stare at her expectantly, your raised eyebrow prompting her to continue.

“The Prince is having a hard time accepting help.” she says through gritted teeth, knowing she wouldn’t expose his insecurities, leaving him even more vulnerable than he already was. “Ah, I see.” Baela’s face burns hot when your gaze flickers to her lips before returning to her eyes. “Well, tell him if he wishes to hear me out, he’d find it easier to do so.” It’s not as though she hasn’t tried, but every time she talks about you, she finds herself flustered for some reason. “Trying to do everything on his own surely isn’t going to help this war.” She wished you hadn’t caught her admiring, to say, but the smirk threatening to split your face told her you did. You knew. And you were only feigning ignorance to save her from embarrassment.

“You’re dismissed for today.” Then came her the usual sternness of her voice, another attempt at trying to compose her unusually flustered self. Yet she was only met by your cheekiness once again, “Of course, Your Grace.” She releases a breath when you make your way out of the library, not realizing the closeness of your figure, nor how badly she had wanted to draw closer— She groaned, rubbing a hand down her face before smacking her head with the parchment in her hands. “I hope you don’t think that’s how you learn what’s on the page.”

Jacaerys’ footsteps grow louder beside her, his curiosity had him peeking into one of the books she was trying to organize. “How was it?” Came his question, his gaze lingering on your retreating figure, he had taken to ignoring all of the dragonseeds outside of training them— but he had considered Maester Gerardys’ request in teaching one of the dragonseeds High Valyrian personally, to ensure progress. Though he denied when he was informed of Baela teaching you, telling himself you would probably be the easiest to work with and not because of his curiosity in Ulf’s words.

Struggling to hide his envy of Baela being able to spend time with you at such close quarters without raising questions.

While It was not unusual for them to talk about their day, they recently found themselves hesitant in sharing—one drowned in how and why she was feeling such a way, as the other tried to control his growing curiosity; unknowingly, about the same person. “Oh, we didn’t make much progress,” his quizzical gaze had her thinking he’s aware of the change in her behavior, but she couldn’t crack now, not until she figured out why these thoughts appeared without warning. “We couldn’t keep ourselves together.” She wasn’t stupid, she knew of her Uncle’s rendezvous— her mother was never one to keep secrets, nor does her father know to hold back jests— She had thought to ask Rhaenyra about it, then withdrawn, considering she’s preoccupied with all her loses as a mother and niece and her duty as a Queen to take back her throne.

If Jacaerys noticed her avoidant eyes he had not mentioned it, and merely proceeded to invite her for their routine supper together. Staying with her to help put aside your messes before offering his elbow as they made their way out of the library. Their supper was quiet, not uncomfortable, but was more hushed than the ordinary, and had Baela paid any mind she would’ve noticed it wasn’t solely from her end.

As Baela taught you High Valyrian, Jacaerys was tasked to train the Dragonseeds with flying. Where he was dumbfounded that he was mistaken with his assumption of your agreeable nature—not that you weren’t, you just found provoking Ulf entertaining.

A similar incident of which happened today.

The dragons Silverwing and Vermithor were known to have been mounted by the Good Queen Alysanne and the King Jaehaerys, respectively, so it was no surprise that they would be more than close, foregoing the true nature of dragons to start behaving like house cats. Much to their riders displeasure, they were all but frolicking in the sun, dragging their riders as though they were ragdolls across the sky— until you held on tighter to your reins at the dragon’s soft glide, calling out to him. “Vermithos, urnēptre zirȳla skoros ao've jiōraton, Ilagon!” show him what you've got. Vermithor releases a sound of approval before he tucks his wings in, swooping down immediately at your command; Silverwing follows directly, jostling an oblivious Ulf to let out a most terrifying scream it could be heard across the bay, while you cackled merrily at his ashen face, feeling the saddle straps grip you harder and the weightlessness of your entire body, throwing your hands in the air freely at your descent to the ocean. Vermithor barrel rolls in the air—Silverwing not far behind— before their wings expand to catch air, water splashing in the air at the force of each flap of their wings soaking you to the bone.

“What were you thinking?!” You hear Ulf’s voice over the beat of your dragons’ wings, his previously pale skin now beet red. “Look’a that, It’s the heir lookin’ toward us.” Your head whipped toward the direction you saw him pointing toward and spotting the Prince’s figure, Vermax beside him. “Looks like someone’s gettin’ a scolding!” His laughter fades out when you guide Vermithor to land where the Prince was waiting.

As you had expected, the scowl on his face was unmistakable, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. again. You were unaware at how his gaze ran over every inch of you as you ready to unmount your beast, his eyes linger on your wet hair, strands clinging to your forehead. The harsh wind leaves a flush on your face. Alluring. Noticing details like he does Baela—He snaps out of his reverie when your breathless figure stands before him, giving him a clearer view of everything he was trying to avoid. Still, he tries not to let his thoughts get to him.

“Could you tell me what drove you to such reckless behavior?” His voice lacked its usual strain, and he knew he made the wrong move when you didn’t try to mask your surprise as it melts into one of mirth. Your smile has his skin crawling, drawing his eyes to the slight dimple of your cheek, to your lip bitten to control your triumph at the aggravation growing on his face. “I’m afraid not, My Prince.”

“You ought to take this war seriously before somebody gets hurt.” he sneered, drawing dangerously close to your figure.

“You really think I would put someone in danger, My Prince?” You notice Vermithor’s agitation growing behind you, his head arriving at your side baring his teeth at Vermax’s approach, the smaller dragon fierce despite the former’s size, until you place your hand just below his eye, “Lykirī.” With a displeased grunt he retracted, though still looming over your head. It was a wonder how so little time had granted you so strong a bond with Vermithor. “If all of us were as tense as you are, we’re all bound to make wrong decisions.” You fiddle with your glove before pulling it off with your teeth, the sneer on his face lessening at your words, yet the furrow of his brow remains as his eyes linger on your lips at the movement.

His dubious parentage was no secret to the smallfolk, the moment you got something of your worth was the moment he thought he lost something of his. That much was clear to you. You could tell by the look on his face during that dinner, when his mother had asked Addam to come with her that there was something more to his anger. Something akin to yours whenever you looked up at the sky and saw dragons you never thought you could ride. His silence was deafening, as though he finally listened to what you were saying instead of just looking at you and only seeing someone who stole something from him.

Granted, that wasn’t the only reason why he was agitated around you. Spending your time with Baela outside of your lesson granted him more of your presence than he’d liked—his gaze lingering on your figure more and more—thankfully, whenever he tore his gaze away from you, Baela was preoccupied with you to notice.

“An advice… if you will, my Prince.” he hummed questioningly, his breath caught in his throat when your hand hesitantly found its place on his shoulder, expecting him to pull away, yet he only found himself seeking more of your touch on his skin. “You ought to find a way to release that tension,” your tone was rid of seriousness in an attempt to jest, your face wrinkling with tease. “Without lessening the amount of training dummies for squires.” Watching the corner of his lips quirk up at his chuckle gave you a relief you didn’t know you needed, patting his shoulders twice before bowing making your way to mount your dragon.

“How do you suggest doing that?” His tone less cold than your earlier encounter had you smirking to yourself, “Your betrothed seemed stressed the last I saw her,” You turn and watch as heat spreads across his face at the implication of your next words, ”Why not take her mind off it?”

Figured it could take his mind off you as well.

Your earlier proximity lingers in his mind as he makes his way back into the castle, recalling the teasing glint in your eyes as it briefly gazes at his lips.

He shakes his head to get you off his mind and just as you said, Jacaerys found Baela in her chambers distressed, her hand rubbing her face while the other taps against the table. The idea you’ve planted in his head didn’t seem plausible, feeling as though he’d be taking advantage of her if he proceeded. He immediately knelt in front of her, taking her hands in his, “What? What’s wrong?” His worry increases when her chest expands as she breathes in. “Baela—” he was cut off when she smashed her lips against his, her hands gripping the back of his neck.

A surprised noise leaves the back of his throat at the impact, her desperation causing their teeth to clash as she attempts to deepen the kiss. “Baela…” her kisses trailing down his jaw leave him breathless, almost making him forget his concerns. He snapped out of his mind when one of her hands fiddled to unfasten his doublet, both of their chests heaving with great breaths, “What is this about?” “I just- I really need you.” She could tell he didn’t believe her, but she Jacaerys wasn’t going to force her if she had declined to talk about it. If only she could tell him, but she needed to get rid of these thoughts— of you.

“Please.” Her pleas were emphasized with a tug on his doublet, but Jacaerys pulled her hand away, kissing her knuckles as he contemplated his next move. “You don’t know what you want—” “I do! Please… I just want to focus on one thing— I- I’m thinking too much.” Her eyes brim with unshed tears, the sight of it had him longing to relieve her. Recalling her doing him the same favor a few weeks ago, an idea crosses his mind and he carefully pulled her hands away causing a breathless plea, he kisses her knuckles before placing a featherlight kiss on her lips, unhurried, as he slowly slips his hand up her legs, feeling the soft texture of her stockings. His lips trail a path down the column of her throat, mouth nibbling at her skin. She shakes her head when she feels a second pair of lips grazing her ear, soft whispers causing her to sigh.

Before long, her skirts were gathered around her waist, his lips ghosting over the skin the stocking slowly reveals, her breathy sighs echo around the room, unashamed at whoever may hear them. She felt his lips trail closer to her core, yet all she could think of was you; Your tongue dancing with hers as Jacaerys bites at her neck,— her breath hitches in her throat when his lips made contact with her clit, her hand gripping his curls as the other covers her mouth as her back arches off the soft linens.

While inexperienced, Jacaerys does his best to bring her pleasure, wrapping her thighs around his head hoping to drown out the thoughts of you by burying himself in Baela’s pussy, but then his thoughts wander to how you would taste, how your calloused hands would feel gripping his hair while you moaned unabashedly under Baela’s touch—disregarding everyone and everything of consequence. He was lucky his mouth was preoccupied lest he would’ve cried out your name, echoing through Dragonstone’s ancient walls.

Baela tries to focus on his mouth on her, his tongue alternating between kitten licking her clit before it slips inside her entrance yet she’s imagining your lips instead of his, running her hands through your hair, your groans entering her ears— she recalls Ulf talking about your experience. Jacaerys’ finger prods at her entrance causing her thighs to shake, he hears her babble incoherently and just as his second finger pushes in, he hears your name escape her lips in a quiet whisper.

He stays there, motionless.

Before she could question his lack of movement, Baela realizes her mistake. Her blood runs cold, her skin feeling clammy against her clothes. She stares at the ceiling in silence, hearing only the beat of her heart in her ears and her panting breath—once derived from pleasure slowly growing into panic—despite his silence, Jacaerys pulls down her skirts to cover her. She dares to stare down at him, seeing only a blank look on his face before he abruptly stands up, wiping her essence around his mouth and spinning on his heels. The sound of his retreating footsteps sucks all the air out of her lungs eliciting a quiet whimper from her throat, thinking he was leaving. But she was surprised when he merely checked if the locks on her chamber’s doors were secured.

She took a shaky breath before she reached for him, helplessly pulling at his hands, trying to catch his eye. Guilt curls at her chest at his furrowed brow, biting the inside of her cheek. “Jace, listen—” At the sight of her panic, Jacaerys grips the sides of her face, and only when his thumbs rub beneath her eyes did she notice the wetness on her cheeks, “Let me explain—“ He immediately shushed her, the desperation in her eyes akin to the one his father had. He hated that he hadn’t noticed until now. “You don’t need to.” He had no idea how his words affected her, feeling her tense shoulders relax. But pulling him in an embrace and feeling his own made her straighten her posture once more.

“Jace?” Her voice unsure when she tried to pull away but was unsuccessful. “I’m sorry.” Her brows furrow in concern at his broken whisper, pulling back and noting his rosy nose and his eyes brimming with tears. “I hadn’t-” he hiccupped, running a hand down his face in worry. Baela’s face drops as she realizes what he was alluding to, “I hadn’t forced you, have—” “No. Absolutely not, Jace.”

“I love you, It’s just— I’ve been thinking of her the way I think about you.” He nodded at her persistence, the relief clouded on his face, though he still can’t relax until he has admitted his own dilemma. With the anxiousness so clear on his face, Baela couldn’t help but think the worst. Nothing could have prepared her for the words that came out of his mouth.

“We both want her..”

His whisper was soft, unsure—lost to the wind if she hadn’t been paying attention.

While still unsure of Baela’s reaction, he felt his shoulders loosen, the weight of his guilt lessening now that he’s admitted his truth. His guilt-ridden eyes followed the motion of her hand covering her mouth in shock, but was surprised when he heard stifled laughter, surprised to see Baela biting her lip, shoulders shaking at each restrained chuckle. “By the gods, we are stupid.”

Watching her take the news with such humor had him feeling lighter than he had for a while and the longer he thought about it, the more he found the affair quite humorous, how despite their attempts to get you off their minds by pleasuring one another, they inevitably found their thoughts drifting back to you. He joined Baela with her quiet giggles, and the air in her chambers lighter than it had been in a while.

As they prepared for bed, a question had planted itself in Baela’s mind. The fire of the hearth glows across the room, providing warmth to the couple that lies upon the chaise before it. Baela’s soft cotton chemise rubs against his naked chest as she shifts on top of him. “What now?” Came Jacaerys’ soft voice, careful not to disturb their growing sleepiness. “I doubt she’ll forgive me for treating her the way I had…” “I think you’ll find that it's quite the opposite.” He grew curious at her sentence, sitting up until her head lies on his stomach, his fingers running through her curls at the agitated whine that escaped her throat. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” she grunted as she repositioned herself closer to him, feeling the beat of his chest quicken beneath her ear at her reply. “She had told me of her failed attempts at apologizing," a yawn escaped her before she continued, “and told me you don’t have to do everything by yourself.”

“Everything?” “Everything.”

She looked at him through her lashes and found him as red as Caraxes. It took a breath before he was faced with her knowing smirk. “You greedy boy–” “You were thinking of it too!” He groaned out through his covered face—his embarrassment unserious—laughing behind his hands as Baela’s jests ensues. “Desiring two women in bed, my, how scandalous of you!” The laughter fades when an idea crosses Baela’s mind as she traces shapes on his chest, “Aegon the Conqueror had two wives.”

“And you’re certain she’d want to be our wife?” Jacaerys had been mulling over every exchange you’ve had and was surprised at how clear Baela’s want for you, yet was still uncertain of how you felt. “Maybe.” While she felt sure of your feelings, she couldn’t get her hopes up until she was certain.

Their plan of uncovering your feelings had been failing for days. Jacaerys had made unusual approaches to you during your sword and flight training with him while Baela had invited you to break fast together, drink tea and now, your High Valyrian lesson, and have made what they thought were subtle comments about open relationships. All the while they had struggled to keep themselves together, you had been quietly smirking to yourself, wondering how long you could act oblivious of them before either of them breaks.

You weren’t a fool—you knew of their growing affections. And while you were hesitant to believe Jacaerys’, his constant gaze on both you and his betrothed’s figure was one you’ve seen before, though as opposed to man whores you’ve been with, it wasn’t just lust you were faced with. As hard as he tried to prevent his demeanor softening around you, he had always failed; a growing smile on his face he doesn’t seem to notice and laughter he attempts to hide at your jest. Offering a brief respite at the otherwise grievous atmosphere, a welcoming change from the frowns and scowls you so often receive.

Baela’s had been less subtle, you’ve thought she had avoided you for Jacaerys’ sake, though her flushed cheeks and averting eyes had later confirmed your suspicions once you began spending your time together.

Lately however, your chest had warmed at their pursuit of romancing you, while you were amused at their failed attempts to be subtle, you couldn’t help but find them endearing.

Jacaerys’ pounding heart mirrors his echoing footsteps as he makes his way to the library. He hears you and Baela before he sees you. He oft wonders if you were even learning anything in your lessons the way your laughter always seem to resonate across the room more than your High Valyrian. He listens as the laughter dies down and footsteps move across the room and takes it as his cue to enter. Baela turns to him when she catches a glimpse of his figure, reaching for his hand and placing a soft kiss on his cheek, a look of hesitance in her eyes as she glances at you then back at him.

You stay quiet, browsing through books and parchment scattered everywhere, feeling their stares on the back of your head. After exchanging looks with Baela, he clears his throat, “I must speak with you.”

You hummed, “What offense have I caused this time, My Prince.” your heart stutters inside your chest as you gaze at the pair, Baela’s plump lips trapped between her teeth as she not so subtly scans you from head to toe. “No, no…not this time.” Your eyes narrow curiously as his gaze flickers to Baela briefly before turning back to you, “Really? I figured you’d find a way to blame me for your desires.”

You felt as the room stills, even the usual flickering of the candles couldn’t be heard as their eyes widened, looking at you in shock. You see his Adam’s apple bob as he clenches his jaw, trying to get a hold on himself. “W-What?” Baela chuckles nervously under your gaze, snatching her hand away from Jacaerys’ when she feels it begin sweating, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m not blind, Your Graces.” You make your way toward them slowly, testing the waters because despite your certainty of their feelings, you wouldn’t want to cross the lines between royalty and subject. So you observe their movements as you approach them. While Baela’s eyes were unwavering on yours, Jacaerys’ kept flicking between you and her. Their practiced masks cracking each step you took until you were finally face to face with Baela. “How long have you known?” She could see from the corner of her eyes, Jacaerys’ eyes widening further at your answer. “A while.” She laughs, unbelieving of what she’d just heard, before she shakes her head and runs a hand down her face. Embarrassed she had thought she was being subtle.

You had wondered how much experience they both had before any of this, not only their longing looks had your curiosity peaked, but whispers of what was happening between their chambers had reached your ears. Now, you knew those words were nothing but gossip with the way they simultaneously quiver under your gaze.

“Did you have fun watching us make a fool of ourselves?” You and Baela roll your eyes at his query, defenses raised once more, understandably yet annoyingly if you had been at the receiving end of it for sennights. “Not to further hurt your pride, My Prince, but it was quite amusing.”

“Watching you both squirm with a need so sinful as wanting another— teetering on the edge of infidelity.” Your palm makes contact with Baela’s cheek, keeping her eyes on you as your other fingers slowly walk up Jacaerys’ arm before resting on his collarbone, feeling the beat of his chest beneath your palm. “So close…desperate to rid of me off your mind,” You feel Baela grip your wrist at your proximity, her mouth agape as she shamelessly chases yours. “and failing.”

Her breath hitches in her throat when your lips finally meet hers. Both your hands cup her jaw eliciting a whimper from her throat, completely forgetting Jacaerys’ presence as she leans further into you, excitement sinks in your lower tummy. He inhales deeply, thrill buzzing in his chest as you angled your head to the side, your tongue prod Baela’s lips, asking for entrance which she grants. His fingers twitch at his sides longing for something to grasp before he feels your hand wrap around the base of his throat, pulling him in, your soft lips against his plump ones.

Your teeth nip at his plump lips, pulling away before surging forward once more, you feel Baela’s lips against the column of your throat up to your jaw, your sigh muffled against Jacaerys’ lips. Her hand runs up and down your sides as she leaves love bruises on your skin while Jacaerys’ grip your jaw in need. You let yourself sink into their needy hands before an idea crosses your mind. You were in no way about to make it easy for Jacaerys to get pleasure. His attitude, while understandable, needed to end with more talking and less moaning around.

You pull away from him and feel your core throb when he attempts to reach you, his mouth agape and glazes eyes. You angled Baela’s jaw to give you access to the expanse of her throat before pushing him making him stumble onto a chair. He watches as you hoist Baela onto a table, her head thrown back as you lap on her throat. Noises he had never heard her make before escaping her throat when you bite into the sensitive skin just below her ear. Her noises go straight to both your groins. “What about…” Her question trails off, her gaze meeting Jacaerys’, your breath tickling her ear. “He’ll get his turn.”

The mystery of what you had whispered had Jacaerys biting his lip. He had not known this would be the result of today, yet he couldn’t complain at the sight in front of him. Baela’s disheveled appearance underneath your hands had a tent forming under his trousers. “He can’t have everything handed to him, can he?” Is all he heard before Baela surges forward, and he watched your hand trail up her legs, her stockings unveiled until you ripped them off exposing her legs to the cold air.

With her skirts bunched up around her hips, her core exposed to Jacaerys’ eyes. Your nimble fingers tease her inner thighs, tracing closer and closer to her pussy before pulling away and softly squeezing her thighs. Baela curses herself for how muddled her mind had become, embarrassed how so little of your touch already had her keening. Shivers running down her spine as you grip her thigh to keep her from closing it, “Keep looking at him, Princess.”

She was certain that her mind will think of your voice every time someone else addresses her as such from now on. She focuses her gaze on Jacaerys’ figure, wondering for a second if he was uncomfortable with the situation with his shifty behavior but whimpers when she spots the tent growing in his breeches. She releases a wanton moan when your finger enters her core, “Oh, Gods!” she squeezes her eyes shut at the intrusion but flies open as she remembers your command.

She grabs your forearm making you hiss as you continue your motions, listening to both her and Jacaerys behind you. Her grip causes crescent moons to appear on your skin. You feel your thighs dampening at the look on her face, your dress feeling clammy against your skin. Your finger drove into her, curling into spaces she didn’t know existed— granted, Jacaerys had never had his fingers in her before.

His hands couldn’t help but rub himself over his breeches, his eyes focused on how you were giving Baela so much pleasure in such little time. How your thumb works circles on her clit as your fingers drive into her entrance slowly but deeply. Each whimper and moan Baela releases sends a shiver of excitement up Jacaerys’ spine at the thought of being caught. Surprising himself at the whimper he released when his eyes trailed up to her face once more and caught both of your eyes; Baela, through barely open hooded eyes and you, looking at him with a slight smirk on your face.

“You’re free to relieve yourself, ñuha dārilaros.”

Those words had him immediately pulling down his breeches in embarrassing speed, though his hands weren’t as soft as Baela’s, they will do for the time being, and given the way you’re staring at him, it will soon be his turn. Baela’s moans grow louder and louder, his view of your fingers obscured by her clenched thighs. Her dress had been pulled down to reveal her breasts, your lips wrapped around one of her nipples, sucking and biting lightly before switching to the other, drawing goosebumps to appear on her skin and the way her hips kept jerking uncontrollably he knew she was reaching her peak.

And just as she was reaching it, you pulled your fingers away drawing a whine out of her throat, “No— please— I-I want—” choking on her spit at the sight of you taking your finger into your mouth before kneeling in front of her. She gazes at Jace in shock before her eyes roll to the back of her head when she feels your lips wrap around her pearl. Moaning when her fingers tug on your hair, sending vibrations to her core. Inserting your fingers into her once again, curling against that spongy spot inside her cunt.

“So fucking delicious.” You groaned against her.

Jace feels himself throb at the sight of Baela’s disheveled figure, her thighs wrapped around your head as she desperately finds purchase on your head, your noises muffled against her. Sweat dripped from her neck in between her heaving breasts and the sloppy rhythm his hand had built around his cock had grown tired, his hand flexing as he tried to rid of its strain, hissing when his sensitive cock hit his stomach.

Baela’s juices drip down your chin as you continue to lap at her bud, feeling it drip down your forearm. Her thighs muffle most of the noises across the room, but it wasn’t enough to cover Jacaerys’ needy whimpers. Baela’s hips began to grind against your face, her hold on your head firm, afraid you were to pull away again— and you do so, craving to watch both of them fall apart together.

She threw her head back, groaning in frustration at your methods, but was cut off, before she could say anything. “I want to watch you both come, Princess.” Jacaerys moves forward reaching for the strings of your dress, his lips tracing up and down your neck before his palms move up to grope your tits making you throw your head back with a pleased sigh. A second pair of hands start to grope your hips before one of them sneaks in between your damp thighs. Shy fingers swiping at your folds, unsure at what to do.

You feel Jacaerys slot himself between your ass, feeling him huffing and mumbling incoherent sentences against your neck as he humps you like a bitch in heat. “Fuck…” You hear him whimper in your ear as you take Baela’s fingers into your mouth before guiding it back to your folds until it slips inside you. Her finger motions were disordered—sloppy as she tried to copy your motions, a desire to bring you to the brink and pull away just as you had, but was unsuccessful when you pulled away from both of them.

They both groaned out in frustration, sick of you pulling away. But you know they’ve never felt the pleasure of finally reaching your peak. So you merely pushed Jace forward, hearing both of them hiss when their sensitive cores made contact—moaning when Baela felt your warm naked figure behind her, your hand cupping her breast, tweaking her nipples between your fingers before trailing down her stomach, wrapping your hand around Jace’s cock and whimpering when you slide his cock in between her folds. Your hand on his backside guiding his movements as their combined arousal continues to drip onto the table.

His pink tip sliding against her bud with each thrust, prompts Baela to pull Jacaerys in, teeth clashing at the impact. You feel yourself grow wetter at the sight of their dancing tongues. Your own mouth gnawing on Baela’s jaw trailing to her cheek before Baela’s mouth latched onto yours, using this opportunity, you guide Jacaerys’ length to her entrance, filling her up to the brim.

Jacaerys’ groan echoes across the room, his forehead pressing against Baela’s temple as he tries to catch his breath. His hands gripping Baela in an effort to ground himself. Feeling her walls clenching around his length as it tried to adjust, sending waves of pleasure all over his body, eager to start moving inside her. He made a mistake of opening his eyes and being met with the sight of Baela’s scrunched up face, her moans poorly muffled against your mouth at the intrusion.

“Seven hells…” He thought watching Baela alone was pleasurable, but having both of you in his arms had him desperate to divulge in all of his desires. He hears Baela whimper, twitching as your hand barely grazes her nipples before dipping between their bodies. Expertly circling Baela’s pearl with your fingers making her squeal against your mouth, gasping out at the amount of attention she’s receiving. “Keep going, please…” He watches as she grabs your forearm, mesmerized at your movements before he reaches behind her to reach your core, copying your movements, softly circling your pearl, unsure, before he hears your sigh.

Baela whines at the lack of movement, earning a chuckle from you. Your words have her hiding against Jace’s neck, feeling herself flush—sheepish under both of your gazes. “Wan’ you to take him. Want to see how pretty you are when you cum, Princess.” “You would’ve already seen us if you had just—” She was cut off with both her and Jace’s moan when you pulled him further into her. Her back arching when after a few thrusts he began to move on his own, gaining confidence, he continued his rutting with purpose. “Jacaerys!” As much as you loved hearing their pleasured noises you didn’t want either of them found out at such a position, so you shoved two fingers into her mouth, muffling her noises as she began to suck on them desperately, tasting herself on your fingers.

You feel his fingers fill you, making you moan against Baela’s skin. A string of saliva connecting you to her when you separated. Your mind grows foggy at his droopy eyes and plump lips, and just as you were imagining him ravaging you, he leans down to press his lips against yours, his hips driving further into Baela’s. His chest grazed her sensitive nipples with each thrust. Their hurried unrestrained gasps had goosebumps running up your arms, enjoying the sight of their desperation for release.

“Need— oh fuck, Baela— need more pl—” He feels the knot in his stomach tightening, hand gripping Baela’s sides as he frantically buried himself inside Baela, barely separating from her before driving in further. He feels her clench around him, his gaze trailing up to your hand pressing onto her lower stomach, “You’re taking him so well, your grace.” Your words have her keening, eyes barely opening to look at the bulge that appears with each thrust . “So close to filling your womb with his seed.” He didn’t want to think how it would feel to fill her— to feel her walls squeeze around him, unwilling to let him go until she’s certain his seed will take. He squeezes his eyes shut trying to rid of the thought of filling you with his seed. ”Such risky times to put a babe in her…” Your fingers unrelenting on her bud.

The thought of being found out is lost to the air as their combined noises grow louder, the sound of skin hitting skin and their juices drowning their concern. His pace grows sloppy, his lips on hers barely containing their wet gasps, “Don’t stop, Jace, don’t—” Baela’s legs wrap around his hips as it stutters to a stop, pressing him against her. Her back arching from your chest, screaming out your name unrestrained as her eyes roll to the back of her head, feeling Jacaerys fill her with his warm seed. Jacaerys reaches for you, his hand holding both yours and Baela’s as he gasps against your lips.

You thought you’ve felt pleasure before, but hearing their breathing grow slower and feeling them both tremble with desire against you for release had you reaching your peak untouched.

For a moment only erratic breaths could be heard. Before you move in front of Baela, kneeling in front of her swollen pussy, watching as their combined come leak from her pussy before you swallow it, tasting a slight metallic tang from the bleeding of first penetration. “Fuck the gods!” Her hands grip your hair unsure of whether to push you away or to pull you closer; the pleasure too good and overwhelming at once. Even Jacaerys found his softening cock hardening once more at the sight. He had read about men requiring time to continue with the act after releasing, but the sight of both of you had his cock twitching immediately.

In time, the movement of your tongue became too overwhelming for her sensitive pussy, slowly clawing at your head to peel you away. “Too much. I can’t—” You slowly pull away, softly kissing and nibbling at her sensitive thighs, feeling them twitch under your lips. Perching yourself on the table, you had planned to take your leave after you had redressed her but was stopped by the hands on your hips trailing up your sides. Jacaerys’ cock parts your lips, feeling himself coated by your arousal; he feels himself growing accustomed to the thrusting of his hips.

He figured he’d just continue with his motions until both of you reach your high—certain that once he succumbs himself within your walls he would not want to leave.

Yet he couldn’t resist when the tip of his cock fortuitously slipped inside your heat.

Gasping, his eyes roll to the back of his head as he feels himself enveloped by your warmth, your delicious moans in his ears as he keens over you. The stimulation of having just released made him feel every muscle clench as your pussy sucks him in further. You figured he wouldn’t last with the way his stomach had trembled, and how you felt him throbbing inside you while quick gasps leaving his lips as he fills you to the brim.

He takes in a quivering breath, before shakily pulling away and sinking back in. Barely separating from you before pushing back in. His cock hits that spongy spot deep inside you repeatedly while his lower stomach grinds against your bud with each thrust, Baela watches from beside you as your combined arousal pools onto the floor. She never thought the sight of Jacaerys taking another woman would please

While she wanted to join you, she was certain she was too sore to do so. So she merely watched as Jacaerys’ wet plum lips took your breast into his mouth, looking at you through his lashes as he ran his tongue over your peaked bud repeatedly while his fingers toyed with the other. His desperation adding to your pleasure. You couldn’t resist from slipping your thumb inside his mouth when he pulled away, his eyes fluttering at your finger pressing in his tongue.

Before long, the coil within your stomach snapped when you felt yourself being filled to the brim with his seed. Your legs wrapping around the small of his back, your pussy pulling him in further, while he moans around your thumb. Saliva separating you when he pulled away. “Couldn’t—fuck—didn’t want to leave.” He leans his forehead on yours, ragged breaths leaving his plump lips. “My pleasure, my prince…” Your whisper goes straight to his groin, still pumping you full of his seed. “You let everybody know you’ve fucked another woman.”

She watches as your finger dips into your entrance, gathering his come before taking your fingers into your mouth. “Oh gods— you’re fucking—you’re mad.” Baela’s giggle echo Jacaerys’ incredulous laughter, before she hisses at the soreness down her hips. The laughter halts as both you and Jacaerys look at her in concern. Immediately moving toward her, Jacaerys massages her hips as you grab a pitcher the servants had left and her soft linens from the floor. You used the soaked linens to clean off the combined wetness, causing whine from sensitiveness. “Shh, I know, Princess.” Jacaerys softly pecks her cheek before leaving her to be tended by you to gather their wears with shaky legs.

Once you were all dressed, you were surprised when Baela reached for your hand. Your gaze meets Jacaerys in query, but he only answers you with a small smile, his head nodding toward the library door. You trail behind them as they slowly make their way to their chambers. The hallway is unfamiliar, as your own resides below theirs. Only hushed words exchanged between them as you move about their chambers. Before long handmaidens have drawn them a bath and have left their chambers.

You move to untie the strings of her dress, Jacaerys’ soft gaze on you as he leans back against the tub. Your naked back lays on his chest, Baela’s on yours. Jacaerys’ watches Baela as she relaxes against you, her head resting on your shoulders. Content that the stress she’s endured for days is fading. Even more glad that his relationship with you might improve after this. “I am truly sorry for what I’ve said to you.” He whispered, lips soft on your shoulder, watching Baela as she dozed off on your shoulder. He yearned to sleep just like she had, his eyes heavy, but taking care of of both of you was his priority

“Are you merely apologizing now that you’ve had a taste of me?” His body grows hot in embarrassment. “You didn’t give me a chance to!” His chuckle shakes his entire body, water almost splashing out the tub. His demeanor lighter than the first time you met him. Softer than when they started their subtle courting. His face flushed with laughter rather than annoyance. Though he would never tell you that annoyance was more so him trying to restrain his yearning. Before Baela falls deeper into sleep, you move to leave the tub and dress her for bed.

Their exhaustion had them longing for their bed, barely able to put his trousers on and dressing you with his white tunic before he sinks into their bed. You were about to leave their chambers, feeling they’d be uncomfortable if you were to overstay your welcome. But you were stopped with a soft hand on your forearm.

“Stay?”

What should sound like a command from a Princess sounded more like a request from a lover.

Fighting her droopy eyes, Baela waits until you are settled in next to her. Laying her head on your chest once you’ve done so, her white curls tickling your neck while Jace curls his arms around her waist from behind. Their touch a reassurance of their need for you.

You needn’t worry about the dragons after all.

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