#But like truly Jace what is up with you man

[rooolt]

actually so obsessed with Jace Stardiamond now bc literally what’s his deal. Like Brennan says that he and porter have “always been a duo” so has he been shatterstarred since freshman year? Has he been in on the plan but didn’t get shatterstarred until spring break sophomore year? Does he believe in porter and want him to be a god? Are they fucking? Like truly what is your motivation dude

[softspiderling]

est-ce que tu m’aimes? | j.v

summary:

“I am sorry, I-“ you pulled the door open, but to your surprise, you came face to face with the source of your sorrows.

“Jace,” you spoke, voice even, crossing your arms over your chest. “Have you come to throw some more insults? Maybe some at me this time?”

Jace clenched his jaw, his hand on the goddamned sword again. Was he itching to take your head off so badly?

OR; Jace’s reaction truly confuses you, you settle in at Dragonstone and a surprising addition to the team makes themselves known.

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x reader, platonic!daeron targaryen x reader

warnings: Jace being a little mean (we all know he’s capable of it)

word count: 5,6k

author’s note: yoooo pt. 2 is finally here!! i hope you love it sm!!! pls don’t forget to reblog/leave comments etc if you liked it!!!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“I cannot believe you would let her waltz into our home like that! She’s putting all of us in danger!”

In less than two days, you were sat outside a study as a heated argument about you took place behind closed doors. It was merely a coincidence that it was within the same family.

After Jace had stormed into the council room, meeting you with open hostility, Rhaenerya had asked you to give them some privacy. You had barely left the room before Jace had started spitting ill words about you.

“She saved me, Jace!”

“What if this is some plot for her to put herself in our midst and feed information back to King’s Landing?”

“Was she not residing in Oldtown with Daeron ever since we left for Dragonstone? It is doubtful she has been let in on the plans to usurp the throne.”

Jace let out a frustrated groan and it was silent for a few moments before Rhaenyra spoke again.

“It seems to me you have a different issue with her… Is it because you have feelings for her?”

Your breath stocked in your throat, your hand stilling against the door. Jace’s behavior towards you confused you deeply. It seemed like he harbored resentment, but you weren’t sure when it had started, when you had suddenly become a traitor in his eyes, instead of a friend.

“Don’t be ridiculous, mother.”

The way Jace scoffed hurt you more than ten daggers in your back, and you pressed your lips together, refusing to let the words of a man affect you.

“I only wish to protect you.”

Swallowing thickly, your hands balled into fists and you jumped back when the door suddenly opened, a knight gesturing for you to step in.

Hesitantly, you entered the room, the tensions still high and you looked at Jace, but he refused to meet your eyes, turning his head away.

Rhaenyra on the other hand stepped up you, taking your hand in hers, cradling it gently.

“I will never be able to repay the debt,” she said in a soft voice, her eyes warm. “You saved my son, even though you weren’t obligated to do it. For that, I will offer you a place here, at Dragonstone, and a place in my council, if you wish to take it.”

“Mother!-“

Rhaenyra ignored Jace’s protest, her voice unwavering. “I believe your insight into our enemies will give us an advantage to win this war.”

“I do not wish to cause a drift between you,” you said honestly. “If Jace does not wish for me to stay-“

“It is not his place,” Rhaenyra said and Jace only scoffed. You fought the urge to glare at him, you didn’t want to antagonize him even further.

“Thank you, your Grace,” you said, lowering your head. “I would very much like to stay.”

Frankly, you wouldn’t know where to go, had Rhaenyra not offered for you to stay, you weren’t sure what expected you, would you return to King’s Landing; it surely wouldn’t go over well.

“And the seat on the council?”

You pressed your lips together. It was an honor, an offer like that, but you could tell Jace wanted you to say no with the way he was looking at you when he thought you wouldn’t notice.

“May I think about it?”

“Of course,” Rhaenyra said, squeezing your hand. “Ser Lorent, escort the Lady to her chambers. I think the ones in the West Wing will be fitting.”

Ser Lorent bowed, before gesturing his arm out to you. “My Lady, if you please follow me.”

You bowed your head to Rhaenyra, turning to leave, but just before you stepped over the threshold of the room, you glanced back. Luke gave you a small smile, but Jace had turned his back to you again. You tried not to let it go to your head, but your mind was racing with questions after Ser Lorent had dropped you off in your chambers.

The sun was shining through the windows when you awoke the next day. You had chosen to take supper in your chambers the night before, trying to give Jace some space. There had been no maid to wake you, so it must still be early. A loud clang of swords floated up from outside and you wrapped a robe around your shoulders as you got out of the bed, glancing out the window.

It turned out that your chambers laid directly above the training grounds, where Jace and Luke were currently in the middle of training. It was nice to see Jace without a scowl on his face for a change, and you took the opportunity to look at him.

He had grown into a very fine Prince, his hair long, curling around his face, his cheekbones high. You had always known he’d grow up to be very handsome. It was hard to imagine he’s the same boy who had told you to write to him every day.

Now, he hadn’t spoken to you a single word after his agitated discussion with his mother.

“Lift your sword up higher when you are in offense, but when someone is advancing on you, make sure to defend the lower part of yourself as well.”

Luke sighed, dropping the point of his sword on the ground, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his tunic. “We have been training since the sun has risen, can we go break fast now?”

“No, you need this.”

“What am I to do with a sword when Aemond descends upon me with Vhagar? Slash at her wings?” Luke scoffed. “I’m not lacking in swordsmanship.”

You pressed yourself against the window as Jace laid a hand on his younger brother’s shoulder, lending him comfort similar in a way you have done with Daeron.

“It will not happen again, Luke. I will make sure Aemond will not get the chance to get near you again.”

Jace let out a breath, his face pained, you could even see it from a distance.

“It was foolish of me to suggest we go deliver the messages,” Jace sighed. “I should’ve gone with you, you had no protection. I never would have forgiven myself if something had happened to you.”

“Jace…” Luke looked at his brother, his forehead creased. “It wasn’t your fault. Our uncle behaved himself with no honor.”

“I should have expected that.” Jace smiled at him wryly. “You were lucky to escape Vhagar when you did.”

“I wasn’t lucky, I had help.”

Jace let out a loud sigh, giving Luke a squeeze on the shoulder.

“Let us go break fast, then.”

“Oh so now you want to end training,” Luke nagged, resheating his sword. “Because I mentioned Lady-“

“Do not speak her name to me,” Jace snapped, stopping Luke in the middle of his sentence.

Luke only sighed at his older brother.

“Jace… None of this is her doing. You cannot-“

A knock on your door quickly made you push away from the window, your cheeks red, almost having been caught eavesdropping.

The two young women standing in front of your chambers gave you a friendly smile, their hair - already twisted in intricate fashion despite the early hour - immediately told you of their parentage.

“You must be Baela and Rhaena.”

One of them, you assumed Baela, as she was wearing riding gear and last you had heard, Rhaena had yet to claim a dragon, inclined her head in yes. You gave them a smile.

“It is a pleasure to meet you. I’m-“

“Oh we have heard all about you.”

Rhaena gave Baela a jab in the side, glaring at her sister and even though Baela had fallen into your word, it did not seem like she had done it in chargrin, as she had a friendly look on her face.

“We were about to break fast. Her Grace asked us to extend the invitation to you,” Rhaena said and you nodded.

“Thank you. Let me get dressed and I will meet you in the dining hall.”

After getting dressed and making yourself presentable, you made your way to the dining hall. Well, you tried, at least. The keep was much bigger than you had anticipated. Finally you rounded the corner, thinking you had reached the dining hall, but instead you were standing in a hallway that split into three more hallways.

“I could have sworn this was the way to the dining hall,” you muttered to yourself, looking around in confusion, when someone called your name.

“… Are you lost?”

Luke stepped out of his chambers, lingering in the doorway. He must have gotten changed after training in the pit, his doublet a little askew as he walked towards you.

“I was exploring the keep.”

Luke gave you a suspicious look, a grin growing on his face.

“How long have you been wandering around?”

“Why do you assume I wasn’t waiting for you to walk me to the dining hall?”

Luke laughed, offering you his arm, which you accepted gratefully as the two of you walked together. You found it was easy to converse with Luke, he was telling you about Arrax and how he has been faring ever since you got back, and that he wished for some more meat instead of fish. His cheeky grin reminded you a lot of Daeron when he was pulling one of his jests on his uncle. It was nice, to have something to remind you of home in a place that felt so unfamiliar.

“And here we are, at the dining hall,” Luke announced as you stepped into a completely different hallway, the large doors to the dining hall open.

“I never would have found my own way here,” you admitted and Luke laughed.

“I know.”

Judging by the sound of easy conversation coming out of the hall, you were the last to arrive. You were hesitant, unwilling to cause any tension but Luke tugged on your arm, sensing your discomfort.

“Come. You shall sit with me.”

You relented, following the young boy inside. The conversation at the table ceased as you entered, everyone bidding you a good morrow. Well, almost everyone.

“Have you slept well?” Rhaenyra asked as you sat down next to Luke. You nodded, giving her a smile.

“Yes, thank you. I am very grateful that you have offered for me to stay. And for the clothes, of course.“

Next to Rhaenyra, her lord husband Daemon only gave you a subdued smirk.

“It appears we are the ones who have to offer our thanks,” he said, his fingers circling the brim of his cup. “You acted when it was easier to do nothing. You showed true courage.”

“Please,” you said, nearly melting into your seat out of embarrassment. “I did what was right.”

You ignored how Jace visibly rolled his eyes, turning his head as he took a sip from his cup. He seemed incredibly displeased by this all.

“You should have seen her,” Luke said, nodding fervently. “She leapt from Vhagar to Arrax just above the clouds like it was a small jump over a beck.”

“That sounds terrifying,” Rhaena said and you nodded.

“It was. I truly do not know what came over me in that instant.”

“Sometimes we don’t know how brave we are until the moment asks for it,” Rhaenyra said with an encouraging smile and you nodded, your cheeks red. Thankfully this scene of praising you was interrupted by the servants starting to serve food.

“You have been living most of your recent name days in Oldtown, is that right?” Baela asked curiously, leaning towards you.

“Yes, Alicent sent Daeron to Oldtown and asked me to accompany him to make the distance from home easier.”

You have always thought it cruel of Alicent to send Daeron away from his family, his siblings. But now you wondered if Daeron was better off for it.

“It was really different from King’s Landing. The grandmaesters were incredibly wise and I have learned a lot from the them,” you told her, a smile on your face. “Daeron of course always dragged his feet, but I knew he enjoyed it as well.”

“How old is Daeron now?” Luke asked, swallowing his food.

“Eight and ten,” you answered. “Not quite a man just yet, even if he believes otherwise.”

The family laughed, and even Jacaerys cracked a smile, though it seemed more unkind than the rest.

“That seems to be running on his side of the family, no?” he asked, taking a sip from his cup. His voice was so cutting, and the light mood seemed to dissipate at once. “Aegon, Aemond, none of them display characteristics of a what a real man is… I wonder if Daeron turned out any better than his usurping and kinslaying brothers, though I-“

Before Jace could continue, you slammed both of your hands on the table as you stood, the tableware clattering. The table grew quiet, the tension thick as everyone laid their eyes on you, but you paid them no mind, your focus on Jace as you glared at him, and he seemed surprised at your outburst.

“Please excuse me,” you pressed out, eyes gleaming with anger. You barely waited for Rhaenyra to excuse you as you left the table, your food still untouched on your place.

As you hasten out of the dining room, you could hear Rhaenyra raising her voice.

“-unacceptable behavior!”

“Why are you all rushing to her defense? Or Daeron’s? She’s just being sensitive!”

“I have lived with you about as long as she has with Daeron,” Rhaena argued. “Would you not come to my defense if someone spoke ill about me?”

You didn’t wait to hear Jace’s answer rushing past the Queensguard that was standing by the door. By some miracle, you easily found your way back to your chambers, the heavy door falling shut as you threw yourself on the bed, letting out a scream of frustration.

You were at a loss.

Jace seemed to use every opportunity to antagonize you, treating you like an enemy instead of a friend he had grown up with. You were no damsel in distress who couldn’t handle tough words, but it was to hard to hear them from someone you harbored feelings for.

You wished you could talk to someone about this. You wished you could talk to Daeron about this. A part of you longed for the days when you were in Oldtown, before any of this occurred.

A knock brought you out of your thoughts and you lifted your head from the cushions, frowning.

“I wish to be alone for a little longer,” you called out. It was probably a handmaiden Rhaenyra had sent to check up on you. You hoped she would respect your wishes, but the knocking didn’t cease and with a small sigh, you pulled yourself up, heading to the door.

“I am sorry, I-“ you pulled the door open, but to your surprise, you came face to face with the source of your sorrows.

“Jace,” you spoke, voice even, crossing your arms over your chest. “Have you come to throw some more insults? Maybe some at me this time?”

Jace clenched his jaw, his hand on the goddamned sword again. Was he itching to take your head off so badly?

“I have been told that my behavior this morning was unbefitting for a Prince,” he ground out, the words like gravel in his mouth. “I’m here to extend an apology.”

You bit back a scoff, rolling your eyes. “Fine. Go ahead, then.”

He guffawed at your words.

“If you are going to be like this, I am not sure it makes much sense for me to apologize,” Jace said haughtily and you snorted.

“If I were to believe that a single word of your apology were genuine, I would readily accept it.”

Jace only scoffed, shaking his head but not denying your accusation. His nostrils were flared and you searched for his eyes, but he refused to meet your gaze. Exhaling softly, trying to let go of your anger, you uncrossed your arms, letting them fall to your sides.

“Why are you so angry?”

Suddenly, Jace’s eyes snapped up to yours, his lips parted in disbelief.

“My mother’s claim to the throne has been stolen by her usurper brother, my uncle! Whereas my other uncle tried to murder Luke, and you ask why I’m angry?”

You let out a small sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Forgive me, I should have been more clear. Let me rephrase,” you said. “Why are you angry with me?”

Jace took a step back, surprised by your question.

“You treat me like I myself have usurped the throne, Jace.”

You looked at Jace expectantly; his mouth opening, like he wanted to say something, before he closed it again, his words unspoken. Before you could demand an answer, hurried steps came down the hallway, Ser Lorent appearing, stopping next to your chambers. Jace seemed relieved at the distraction as the knight inclined his head at him.

“My Prince, the Queen has requested your presence for the council meeting.”

Jace nodded, giving you one last glance before stepping towards Ser Lorent, expecting him to leave right away, but Ser Lorent turned his eyes on you.

“You as well, my Lady.”

Jace let out a scoff and turned on his heel without waiting.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath as he stalked away. You sighed, glancing at Ser Lorent but he only extended his hand in silent invitation, leaving you no choice but to go with him.

The painted table in the council room was already fully seated, save for one empty space, two seats down from Jace. Most of the council consisted of lords of various houses, who eyed you sceptically as you took your seat next to Baela.

“What is a girl like her doing at a council meeting?” The Lord sat across from you asked, clear disdain on his face. You only stared back at him, not knowing how to answer yourself, but disliking his tone towards you only for the fact that you were not a man.

“This girl,” Jace replied, and you already resigned to another slight at you, “Has saved my brother up thousand feet on the air with no training. What have you achieved for my mother, Lord Bartimos?”

Lord Bartimos only let out an aggrieved sigh as he leaned back in his seat, while you turned to Jace with a surprised look on your face. He didn’t meet your eyes. Luke on the other hand, was ducking his head to hide a grin, failing miserably.

“She can offer us insights into the plan of the usurpers,” Rhaenyra said, effectively stopping any more arguments. “I hope we can avoid any bloodshed.”

“Avoid?” Daemon asked, leaning forward with a crease in his forehead. “They blatantly attacked a messenger after you wished for some time to think about their offer.”

“Daemon is right.”

Jace’s voice was strong as he agreed with Daemon, his shoulders tight.

“This is not the time to sit back and watch their plans unfold. We have come too close to unimaginable tragedy.”

Jace’s eyes flickered to his younger brother, before he turned to look to his mother. “We need to fight back.”

Rhaenyra opened her mouth, seemingly to disagree with her eldest son, but a commotion outside caught everyone’s attention.

“Dragon!”

“It’s a dragon with a rider!”

Everyone at the table looked at each other, unsure of what was happening when a knight from the watch outside came storming into the room.

“Your Grace!” he called, bowing quickly. “There has been a dragon sighted with a rider, he’s headed straight for Dragonstone.”

Rhaenyra’s forehead creased in concern.

“Do we know who it is?”

“No, your Grace.”

Rhaenyra stood, her strides quick as she walked outside, the rest of you were not too far behind her. Outside, the folks were rushing in, trying to get to safety from an imminent attack from the dragon.

“I will mount Moondancer,” Baela said, already turning on her heel but Rhaenyra stopped her, shaking her head.

“No. We do not know his intention yet, another dragon might provoke him into attacking.”

You lifted your eyes to the sky, sight blinded by the sun for the first few moments. The dragon’s movements seemed familiar to you, and as your vision adjusted, you let out a laughter, relief coursing through you.

“That’s Tessarion!” you exlaimed, turning to Rhaenyra with a smile. “It’s Daeron!”

You broke out in a run, skirt of your dress lifted as you skidded down the stoney hill, ignoring how Jacaerys was yelling after you to wait.

Tessarion landed on the green grass, stretching her orange-blue wings, as Daeron slid off his saddle, feet on solid ground again. He oriented himself looking around, before relief took over his face when he saw you.

“Sister!”

“Daeron!”

You fell around his arms like countless times before and he held you so tightly, you were afraid he’d never let you go.

“You promised,” he whispered into your neck in a choked voice. “You promised you wouldn’t abandon me.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry,” you mumbled, squeezing Daeron. You didn’t let go of him until his hold on you lessened, knowing he needed to realize that you were, and not gone. Pushing his hair out of his face, you gave him a watery smile.

“How did you know I was here?”

“Brother.”

Rhaenyra’s voice brought you back to reality, as the both of you stood straight, Rhaenyra’s face null of emotion. Jace was furious, his eyes flitting between you and Daeron continuously, while Daemon stood behind Rhaenyra.

“Are you here to deliver a message from the false King that is your brother?”

“I am not a messenger,” Daeron said, his voiced heated. “And as I recall he’s your brother as well.”

His tone is starting to border on disrespect so you glanced over to him, your eyebrows creased. Daeron let out a small sigh.

“I hold no loyalty to my brother,” he added, his voice softer. “Nor am I here to deliver any messages.”

“Then what is your purpose of being here?”

“I’m here because she is,” Daeron answered simply, squeezing your hand. “She has been more kin to me than either Aegon or Aemond. I want to stay on Dragonstone, if you allow it. Fight alongside you.”

“Are we offering shelter for anyone who comes here now?”

Jace’s voice was directed at Rhaenyra, but Daeron narrowed his eyes at him.

“What happened to him?” he muttered to you under his breath. “I do not recall him being this miserable.”

“Daeron!” you hissed, the corners of your mouth tugging up anyways. Jace scoffed, taking a step forward, only to be stopped by Rhaenyra.

“If you are willing to trust me, you have to trust Daeron,” you said, looking at Rhaenyra. You understood that she was wary, she and Daeron barely spent any time together, he was a stranger to her. But you hoped that her trust in you was only half as strong as your trust in Daeron. “If anything, it adds another dragon on your side.”

Rhaenyra regarded you with a impressed smile, giving a small nod.

“Very well. You might stay, Daeron,” she said; behind her, Jacaerys and Daemon exchanged a look, neither of them happy about her decision. “However, I wish to speak with you, alone.”

Daeron nodded, and you squeezed his hand as you followed Rhaenyra back inside the keep, trying not to let Jace’s piercing eyes on you bother you.

“I think it odd. Seeing Rhaenyra again after all this time. My sister.”

You were sitting out in the grass, Daeron’s head in your lap as he talked. He had spent the last two hours in the council room speaking to Rhaenyra. You weren’t sure what exactly they had talked about, but when they both came out, they seemed calm, almost peaceful. You didn’t pry, knowing that Daeron would share whatever he felt comfortable with.

“Does she feel like kin to you?” you asked, knowing how distant Rhaenyra was to Alicent’s children, even when they were younger.

Daeron shrugged, ripping up a blade of grass with his hand.

“She was polite enough. She knows what advantage she has having me on her side. I cannot see us become closer,” he said. “Like us.”

Daeron peered up at you with a grin and you rolled your eyes. Something was still nagging at you, and you knew it wouldn’t leave your head until you had answers

“What happened when Aemond got back? How did you know I was here?”

Daeron’s smile dimmed a little and he looked away, his eyes focusing on the blue sky above you.

“I was already searching for you by the time Aemond returned. I could tell by the look on his face that something had happened, so he told me that he had been out in Storm’s End to secure pledges for Aegon, and that you had come with. Luke had arrived just shortly after Aemond had negotiated with Lord Borros and he got angry, starting a fight, bringing up what had happened at Driftmark.”

Your brows furrowed. You had suspected that Aemond wouldn’t tell the truth, but blaming Lucerys for his bad temper? Anything to paint you as the villain.

“Aemond said you took Luke’s side, your feelings for Jace swaying you.”

Your cheeks reddened. You hadn’t realized that your affections for Jace were so apparent that Aemond would take notice. Daeron continued, unperturbed.

“- and that was when Aemond returned to King’s Landing.”

“That’s not-“

Before you could finish, Daeron interrupted you, his eyes finding yours again.

“I know, Rhaenyra told me what truly happened.”

“But did you really believe what Aemond had told you? That I would just go with Luke because of an argument, leave you?”

Daeron shrugged with his shoulders, his eyes downcast.

“I did not want to. But what was I supposed to do? Call Aemond a liar? I don’t think that would have gone well,” he argued. “I did not have choice but to accept his truth as mine.”

“Then why did you come here if you thought me a traitor?”

Stilling, Daeron pressed his lips together.

“Helaena… She was behaving peculiar… I was sitting with her in the day room, watching Jahaerys and Jahaera play, and all she kept saying was “To save her brother, you must trust your sister” while looking between me and Jahaera,” he told you and you frowned.

To save her brother, you must trust your sister?

“What does that mean?”

“I am not quite sure,” Daeron said, shaking his head. “But I knew it must mean that Aemond was not telling the truth, that you had left because of something else.”

You bit back a smile; it amused you how Daeron did not hesitate to think of you when someone mentioned his sister, but hummed in thought, unsatisfied with his words.

“What if she did not mean me? What if she was talking about Rhaenyra?”

The sound of footsteps crunching on the gravel leading up to the small cliff made the two of you paused. You both looked up just to see Jace arrive to the top, stopping at the edge of the field stiffly. Daeron propped himself up on his elbows, glancing to you, then back to Jace slowly before he got to his feet, dusting off his clothes.

“I should go to the dragon mount. See how Tessarion is faring.”

You knew exactly what he was trying to do and you shook your head quickly, pulling yourself up.

“Daeron…!” you almost shouted, but the young Prince already departed. As he passed Jace, the older gave him an almost imperceptible nod, before Daeron disappeared down the hill. You let out a small frustrated huff, your eyes flickering to Jace before you turned away again. His steps were careful as he came closer, and you wrapped your arms around yourself, not looking at him as he came to a stop next to you.

You were the first to speak.

“I am surprised you didn’t call Daeron a traitor as he passed you.”

In hindsight, you could have chosen less biting words. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Jace clench his jaw.

“I wouldn’t.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“I am not!” Jace sighed. “I did not come to argue with you.”

“Then what have you come for?”

Jace fell silent again and you shook your head in exasperation. It was hard for you to read him; he seemingly had made it a habit to guard his emotions. When Jace finally spoke again, his words surprised you.

“I always envied him.”

“What?”

“Daeron,” he clarified. “When you wrote to me that you were to be sent to Oldtown with Daeron, I was furious. I begged mother to let you come with us, but she said it would be seen as disrespectful towards Alicent. She wanted to avoid a fight.” Jace scoffed, shaking his head. “The irony does not escape me.”

He paused, his gaze on the horizon. Two dragons had made their way out of the dragon mount, flying in the sky, stretching their wings. One, you were able to recognize as Vermax, with his orange green scales. He had grown exponentially since the last time you saw him. The other dragon was unfamiliar to you, but the dragons seemed to have a bond as they flew around each other playfully. You took your eyes off of the dragons to look at Jace. He was already looking at you, his cheeks pink.

“I looked forward to your letters every day,” Jace admitted, ducking his head. “… It eased my longing, if only slightly.”

Your lips pursed into a pleased smile.

“You longed for me?” you teased.

“Did you not long for me?” he asked quite bluntly, his eyes searching yours. “Or was what you had enough for you?”

Letting out a small huff, you shook your head, knowing what he was insinuating; the same thing that Aemond had hinted at only a few days prior.

“Daeron and I are like brother and sister, I do not long for him in any way than you do for Luke.”

Jace nodded, his smile delighted. But you let out a sigh, wringing your hands.

“If you truly felt like this… Why have you treated me so horribly ever since I’ve been here? Why have you stopped replying to my letters?”

“It’s not…” Jace trailed off, pulling his face into a frown. “After we received the news of my grandsire’s passing, mother has been on edge, preparing for war. We all have. And I felt guilty, I didn’t want to be distracted by anything, and whenever one of your letters arrived, I couldn’t get my mind on anything else than sitting down to write back to you. So I just… Stopped answering. And I thought I could write to you when all of this is over, but then you were suddenly… Here.”

Jace broke off, pressing his lips together. “You were supposed to stay in Oldtown, far away from the war that is brewing. Now you quite literally launched yourself right into the middle of it all. I thought it incredulous that you would just show up and save my brother… Like in a dream.”

Your chest ached. You had not realized how worried Jace was for you.

“But you thought I was spying for information,” you reminded him.

“I didn’t really believe you would be capable of doing so… But I couldn’t let my feelings cloud my judgement. Mother counts on me, and as her heir, I have to fulfill my duties.”

Biting your lip, you nodded, your chin low. While you understood why Jace had been behaving the way he was, it still hurt to be treated that way.

“I dislike causing you anguish,” he said quietly. “Can you find it in yourself to forgive me?”

“The way to forgiveness may not be easy,” you warned him, a small smile on your face. “I am not known for being very forgiving.”

“Then it will be so much more rewarding,” Jace quipped, smiling at you.

The both of you fell into a comfortable silence, staring out in the distance, the dragons dancing in the sky. You almost flinched when you felt Jace hesitantly reach for your hand; it was the first time he let go of the hilt of his sword since you got to Dragonstone. Swallowing nervously, you laced your fingers with his, feeling the tension bleed away from his limbs. For a while, you just stood there, hand in hand, lending each other comfort in the silence. A silence Jace soon broke.

“Do you want to go for a ride on Vermax?”

Your eyes lit up at the sudden invitation, but you held your excitement at bay, not wanting to seem too eager. Seeing Jace’s face however, it told you that you better work on masking your emotions. While the imminent war brewing in the near future scares you, you didn’t want to forego small moments of happiness, you were sure the war held plenty of misery and frustration. You would enjoy every single smile you could shed.

“I’d love to.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author’s note: before you ask, i’m not planning on writing another part! maybe a few drabbles in the future! 🫶🏼

[fabled-fiction]

Cregan Stark x Targaryen daughter of Rhaenyra

I don’t have a deep plot but I do have an idea. What if reader takes the place of Jace and flies to encourage Cregan like in the recent episode and he’s mesmerized by her beauty? 👀 Something along those lines — feel free to add or change it! ☺️ Thanks!

Snowflakes, Stolen Looks, and Beating Hearts

(Cregan Stark x Strong!Reader)

Summary: When you are sent with your brother Jacaerys to meet up with the Lord in the North, Cregan Stark, some feeling being to make the both of you light headed and forget just exactly what duty calls from the both of you. 

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: MAYBE POSSIBLE SPOILER ISH FOR EP 1. Yearning, possible OOC for Cregan (love does things to a man can you blame him??), Use of (Y/N)

A/N: This took…too long to write. I wanted to make this a yearning lovesick-y fic of Cregan that I have been DYING for and kept mulling over all the details. BUT ALAS it is here, I hope it filled your request and you all enjoy!!

You never thought that you would see snow.

You always wished to see it, having heard of its beauty. Ice falling from the sky in beautifully small flakes that seemed to be sewn together by the gods.

Looking at the palm of your hand, you smiled as you studied the pattern of the snowflake. Its exquisite beauty only lasting mere seconds as it began to melt into the valleys of your skin. A small frown made its way in place of your smile as you temporarily mourned the flake, before you wiped your hand on your cloak.

To think this place was blanketed in such beauty for the entire year.

Just ahead, Jace took a glance over his shoulder as he stared at the spectacle that was you. You stood next to your dragon, still as ever letting the snow collect on your hair and shoulders. You looked statue-esque as you continued to catch snowflakes, admiring them before they met their inevitable fate. Lost in your own world as you took a moment to forget about everything that had been plaguing you for the past few months.

He wished he could do the same, even for just a moment. Arriving at Winterfell, had him feeling on edge. For his whole life Jacaerys had protected you, feeling it was his duty to make sure nothing ever hurt you. The both of you, him being the first son of Queen Rhaenyra and you the first and only daughter, had grown up to know the true meaning of duty. This alone had bonded the two of you practically to the hip, it did not matter that you were older than him.

Looking back at you, he smiled as he saw how much snow had collected on your hair…people could mistake you for a “true” Targaryen…

That alone reminded him of the reason they were there.

“(Y/N)...c’mon we mustn't be even more late than we already are to meet with Lord Stark. Nightfall will be upon us yet…”

He watched as you finally looked up from the palm of your hand and sighed. Shaking the snow off of your head and shoulders, you rushed to meet his pace.

“I must say, I quite like this cold. It's much better than the humidity we face on Dragonstone.”

This earned a chuckle from Jacaerys. “Is that what you think of now? Not what to say to Lord Stark? What words to sew together to ensure he is our ally?”

“I do not need to take such action. Diplomacy comes easy to me. Besides, the Starks are known to be loyal to a fault.”

That much was true. Jace wasn’t entirely sure why he felt such anxiety with this meeting. It could have been that the simple act of ensuring allyship meant that war was truly upon your house. Or perhaps it could have simply just been that he did not wish to look a fool aside you as you expertly made your way through conversation with Lord Stark despite this being your first meeting. Since the both of you were small you had a knack for persuading people with your words. The Silver Tongued Dragon, you had been known as not long after this talent was found out.

Yes, he had nothing to fear. This would all go smoothly.

“Lord Stark, Prince Jacaeyrs Velaryon and Princess (Y/N) Velaryon of House Velaryon have arrived.”

Cregan nodded to the squire, straightening his cloak as he strapped Ice to his back.

This meeting in particular was one he was not too entirely worried about. House Stark had bent the knee to King Visery’s when he named his daughter as heir to the iron throne. This matter had been in the back of Cregan’s mind, with many more pressing matters being his top priority. He supposed that is why he often did not make the best first impressions, as his priorities were not that of the common list that many found themselves concerned with. He did not take an immediate interest in the pursuit of heirs or of ensuring that the house had a formidable reputation. Duty was his priority.

This meeting was a matter of formality to him. To ensure that he would stand behind Queen Rhanerya and support her in whatever way he could, without crippling the defenses on the Wall.

His hands reached back to tie his hair halfway up, his eyes focusing on the black ice of the steps. As his fingers struggled to snap the band around, he finally looked up to meet the faces of the two young dragons.

When his eyes met yours, everything seemed to stop.

It was as if the snows knew to freeze this moment over, so he could have the chance to meet your eye.

Cregan Stark had heard of the beauty of the old Valyria. He listened to the stories men shared of the silver haired house that brought out the darkest of temptations of man. How their men and women held a grace about them that had wives and husbands lust for just the touch of their hand on theirs.

As he looked at you, he felt that those stories were watered down backswill of a drunkard. There was not a word within the all known language of the Seven Kingdoms that could describe what he felt in this moment as he had the fortune to lay his eye upon you. He felt his grip on the banister tighten as he took in the sight of you. You, who looked up at him with the most mesmerizing beautiful eyes that only looked at him. 

It wasn't until he saw the rise and fall of your own chest did he remember to breathe.

“Lord Stark, It's an honor to make your acquaintance.”

Looking over at your brother, Cregan cleared his throat as he made his way down the stairs to properly shake his hand.

“The honor is all mine, to host the both of you here. My apologies for the weather, but it is the North.”

His accent stuck out to you. On Dragonstone and even throughout the Keep, when you had stayed there once upon a time, people often shrouded themselves in uppity falsehoods. Either to seem as if they were meant to truly walk amongst you, or to be someone entirely different from whence they came. It was part of the reason why you were so glad to have fled to Dragonstone, there were not as many falsehoods there.

So to see Cregan Stark have no fear in brandishing his weaponry, and speak to you in the laced tongue of the North was refreshing. You were drawn to the way he felt as if the niceties of royalty were second thought. As if the both of you could afford to toss aside pleasantries. It made you smile.

There was something else to be said about the Northerner. Just the way he stood before the both of you alone was enough action to intrigue you.

“Lady Velaryon, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

When his hand enveloped yours, you felt your breath catch in your throat. His eyes did not leave yours, as he lifted your knuckles to his lips.

“I wish it under other circumstances, Lord Stark.”

Giving him a small smile, the two of you stood there eye in eye. He had yet to let go of your hand as the two of you held each other there. When you stood this close to him you were able to get a better look at the man they had named Wolf of the North. Cregan Stark stood before you, dressed in fur and leather, bowing as he held your hand. You couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter as he held your eye. A flurry of grey and blue looked at you, purely you, and you couldn't help but feel as if that's all he wanted to do. Just as you stood there now, feeling consumed by the eye of the storm and wanting nothing more but to throw yourself to the whims of the winds.

“Lord Stark, Is there somewhere more private we could discuss?”

Feeling the hot stare of Jacaerys gaze on you, you regrettably took your hand from Cregan’s grasp. The imprint of his warmth on your skin remained, even through the leather, making you bring your hand to your chest as you bowed your head to him quickly.

Clearing his throat, Cregan looked at Jacaerys with a nod before motioning to the large metal lift.

“ ‘Course, let us talk atop the Wall.”

Jacaery’s held your eye for a moment as the both of you followed the Wolf. His eyes held a question within them as the two of you silently spoke. He had watched that whole scene unfold, having been a bystander to the tension that grew with every second that Cregan held your gaze. You simply rolled your eyes as you shoved him before following the Northerner into the metal cage.

Closing your eyes, you froze for a moment to feel the northern winds run through your hair and cloak. Snowflakes found themselves resting on you again, drawn to the warmth that ran through your Targaryen blood. As the lift brought you higher and higher into the sky, level with where you flew your dragon, it almost felt as if the air in your lungs crystallized.

“So tell me Lord Stark, What is this that falls from the sky and shivers my bones? Is it not still summer throughout the isles of the Seven Kingdoms?”

Cregan was so lost in his jealousy of the snowflakes that rested upon your skin that he almost didn't hear you speak. It wasn't until you had opened your eyes and looked at him through your lashes did he realize you had addressed him.

“This is only a late summer snow, my princess. In the true winter it will cover all you see, any memories you hold of warmth will be forgotten.”

“Sounds..hauntingly beautiful. Whilst this is my first time seeing snow it is my understanding that this is not the first time our ancestors have met here to treat? If I am correct it was the…Conqueror and the King in the North?” 

Jacaerys felt a relief fall over his shoulders as he heard you expertly laced the matter at hand into conversation. His eyes landed on Cregan as he watched the man hang onto every word you spoke. Not once had he looked at Jacaerys after the three of you stepped into the lift. His eyes never left you even before you spoke. He would like to think that it was because of the presence and attention you demanded. He had seen it many a time before, people could not look away from you whenever you entered a room, and their fates were often sealed after you had started to speak.

But, something else lay within his gaze. Jacaerys had seen that look before. The look of total awe and devotion to the other.

It was the same exact look he gave Baela.

“Surely the great Torrhen Stark would have sooner died than bent the knee. Unless of course he believed the Conqueror could bring unity to the Seven Kingdoms?” 

Cregan looked over to Jacaerys with a sigh. This meeting was meant for diplomacy, he had to remind himself of this as he looked to the Prince. He felt a crease grow within his brow as the three of you walked throughout the icy walkways of the top of the wall.

When your hand reached to hold his arm, he felt a fire light in his chest at your touch alone. It was as if you took all his pain and worry, forbidding it from plaguing him. When he took the opportunity to look over at you, he felt the ice in his veins thaw. 

“What my brother is getting at, Lord Stark, is that there is a threat upon the unity to the Seven Kingdoms. One that would tear the realm apart if the men and women who swore an oath to our grandfather do not remember who the rightful heir is. You understand our concerns do you not?”

“Starks do not forget their oaths, my princess…”

Looking at your hand placed on the crook of his elbow, he swallowed as he rested his hand atop yours.

“Can we depend on your men if the time comes that the Hightowers declare war upon our mother’s claim to the throne?”

Looking at Jacaerys, Cregan swallowed. He should not have felt torn, but he did. He needed his men here, to defend the wall from that which dared to plague Westeros. There were forces that lay in wait, that threatened the sanctity of not only the North but the South as well. He did not wish for his duty to falter in this dire time of need. But he had seen the worry in your eye. He knew that you were dependent on the power of the North if your mother’s throne, if you family was meant to remain the next in line. Another part of him wanted to promise whatever he could, whatever you needed just at the drop of the word.

“You must understand my hesitation, my Prince. Whilst I wish for nothing more than to offer you the whole of which the North has to offer, I must keep my army here to defend the Wall. Do you think my ancestors built a seven hundred foot wall to keep out snow and savages?”

As the three of you approached a divet within the wall, all of a sudden a very overwhelming dread filled your stomach. Looking over the edge, you saw nothing but a vast forest, covered in snow. But for some reason, the dragon within you faltered. Every sense you had was screaming at you to back away from the ledge that you took further steps towards. 

“What does it keep out?” Jace asked, as he felt his heart fall in his chest at the sight of you taking a closer step to the edge of the Wall.

“Death.”

You took a moment to look over your shoulder at Cregan once hearing the declaration. You had heard stories about the meeting place that took place here. How when King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne stood in your very spot, their dragons refused to cross the threshold. It made your stomach drop just at the idea of there being something more beyond the wall. That was a thought for another time however.

Both Jace and Cregan watched as you stood still as a statue once more, looking over the land of the North.

“I understand your hesitation to pull your men from the Wall, Lord Stark. It is quite the responsibility you have here,” Taking a step back, you swallowed as you smoothed your hair back. Jace offered you a hand to steady yourself as you took a few steps back from the edge.

“All we ask is that you provide whatever you can when the time comes. In return I personally can promise you’ll have mine when needed.”

Cregan sighed as he looked between the Wall and you. That alone had just sealed his fate, that he truely would give you whatever you needed, especially now knowing that you felt a duty to protect what was his as well. He could see it in your eyes when you looked over that edge. You believe his tales of things that lurked in the dark, just as he believed you when it came to the vile words of treachery.

The both of you would need the other soon enough yet.

“I can offer you thousands of greybeards. They have seen far too many winters, having grown a distaste for the cold. Their skills are well honed, and they can be ready to fight at a moment's notice. They will fight hard for you, like Northerners.”

There was a visible tension that dropped from the both of your and Jace’s shoulders after his words. Your brother rested his hand on your shoulder as you clasped your hands together in front of you. Jace then reached forward to shake Cregan’s hand with both of his.

“Thank you Lord Stark. Your promises will not be forgotten.”

Finding your way beside the both of them, you clapped your hand on both their shoulders with a beaming smile.

“Lets celebrate shall we?”

-

He couldn't take his eyes off you.

You sat across the table, the warmth of the candle light that lit up the meeting hall suiting itself well on your cheeks. You had settled in well at the opposite head of the table, chatting with other Northern women. You were content, from as well as he could tell.

His eyes hadn’t left you since the minute you found yourself in his halls, drinking his wine and eating his food. There was something that stirred in the pits of his stomach as he…provided for you. In the ways of war and also in the niceties of comfort. You had taken well to both, and he planned to bathe in your presence for as long as he could before you took your inevitable departure.

After that he wasn’t sure he would see you again ever.

While he should have been fine with that, as he had told himself a multitude of times that courting and the ways of society were well beyond his interests, something made him sick at the idea of letting you just slip away because of some silly notions he had been telling himself. You had bewitched him at first glance, and as he had taken in more of your presence throughout the day he could rightfully say that you had taken up a space in his mind if not in its entirety. 

His hand gripped his chin tighter at these thoughts alone.

“Lord Stark…” 

Shaking his head, he looked over to see your brother standing beside him.

“My prince, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Jace motioned to the chair besides Cregan, sitting down as the Lord motioned him. Taking one last look at you, as you laughed aloud at whatever the person holding your attention had said, he figured he could spare a moment of his attention being somewhere else.

“I just wanted to come by and thank you once again for pledging your support. I know it was not your responsibility to ease my anxieties but you did anyway, and I am grateful for it.”

He gave a curt smile to the prince, turning his body to face him to ensure that he was indeed involved in whatever conversation Jacaerys had meant to begin. However that could not be further from the truth as his mind began to wander.

“A Stark never forgets their oath. I would not be the man I am today had I intended to ever break it. “

“I figured as much. My sister said quite the same thing when we arrived, she being the more faithful one.”

Cregan smiled at the comment, taking another look over to you. You were alone in thought now, whoever you were speaking with having taken your attention for granted no doubt and departing to enjoy the festivities that were about. You were looking out the window, taking in the snow of the North like you had been earlier that day.

“She the smarter of the two of you hmm?” He quipped, smirking as he watched Jace chuckle to himself.

“She is the smartest out of all my siblings I would say. (Y/N) has always been a good judge of character, I don’t think I have ever seen her put her trust into someone who didn’t deserve it.”

His heart jumped at the words Jace bestowed upon him. Somehow knowing that you trusted him, that he was one of the few that could claim to have earned your admiration even within just a few words made him feel stronger in a sense. Is this what men talked about, when they said that the affection of a woman made them feel as if they could move the hills? If this is how he felt just at the mention of your trusting him, he couldn’t help but ponder on how he would feel from being the object of your affections.

“I think that might be one of the main reasons why she hasn’t been courted.”

Cregan froze, feeling himself look over at you once again. For some reason the thought did not run through his mind that your hand could have already been called for. It stirred something in him, knowing that your name was still Velaryon.

Your seat was empty when Cregan looked over again. He saw your silhouette turn the corner quickly, vanishing in a flurry of red and black.

“Enjoy the rest of the meal my prince.” Cregan laid his hand on Jace’s shoulder before making his exit in the same direction that you had.

Jace smiled to himself as he watched the man quickly follow your footsteps with haste, his cloak making a rather dramatic arch at the turn.

There you stood, looking into the sky. You looked as if you were infatuated by the moon herself, lit up only by her beam as snowflakes flitted around you. If it was possible for you to look anymore ethereal Cregan would become devote. You were cast in a halo of moonlight, so entranced that it almost made him guilty for interrupting such an intimate moment.

Looking over your shoulder, he swallowed whatever nerves he was feeling so he could actually have the opportunity to talk with you. But then you smiled at him, and he felt himself grow weak. Part of him wanted to fight against this foreign feeling, the other wanted to bask in it.

“Lord Stark, I hope my leaving didn’t come off as rude. I wanted to enjoy the cold for just a little longer.”

“Not at all. I’m glad you have taken such an interest in what others would consider harsh.”

This got a small hum from you as you held your gloved hand out. “How one could consider this harsh is beyond me.”

Cregan chuckled to himself as he came to stand next to you, watching as you studied the snowflake in your palm.

“Winter is not often kind. The cold and ice have a tendency to turn those away, since it takes so much and gives so little.”

“Fire does the same, yet people hold it in such a high regard. People should do the same with snow.”

Cregan hung onto every word you said, taking this private moment deep within. Hearing you speak so poetically, especially when the topic was anything other than the purpose of which you came. To get a glimpse into who you were, to know the person that was you made him think of a million other questions to ask just to fill out every step it took to understanding you.

He watched you closely as you brought your hand down, and held your arms when you looked up. The cloak you had dawned earlier was nowhere in sight, and if he could recall it had been left behind on your chair in the haste of leaving the room. Cregan was quick to remove his own fur lined cloak, and drape it across your shoulders. It swallowed you, enveloping you in the lingering warmth that was him.

“Thank you, you did not have to.”

“What type of a host would I be if I let you freeze?”

You laughed at his comment, a full laugh, and placed your hand on his bicep. It was still cold, from catching snowflakes, but it warmed him none the less.

“Plus, it looks better on you. The North suits you.”

A flash of blush rested on your cheeks at the comment, and made you tighten the grip on his cloak.

“Thank you, Lord Stark. I do have to say of all the places I’ve been I think I have enjoyed my time here the most.”

With a nod, he clasped his hands behind his back before leaning a little closer to whisper to you.

“Well I hope then that the next time you are here I can show you all that Winterfell has to offer..that is if there is a next time?”

You both had turned to face each other now, your hand still holding his arm as you looked up and only him now. He looked at you the same way the moon did, and you basked in the warmth of him in the same way.

Reaching forward, his hand came to hold a bit of your bang before wiping the snow from it and tucking it behind your ear. His hand came to rest on your cheek, holding the side of your face as the both of you were able to finally really look at each other without the wandering eye of anyone else.

He took his time committing your face to memory, just in case this was truly the last time he would see you. Cregan wanted to make sure his dreams were able to replicate the image of you.

You stood there, doing the same. You were surrounded by him entirely, in scent and sight. This entire afternoon when he wasn’t looking at you, you were looking at him. You could feel this back and forth game of cat and mouse that had played out, but there was a nagging reminder of everything that lead to this meeting and everything that waited after it.

Perhaps you could take this night to bask in something that wasn’t duty.

“I could entertain the thought, only if you could make the trip worthwhile.”

This earned a laugh from the northerner as he looked at you, and his thumb ran under your eye. The feeling off his touch had you feeling drunk off his attention. Oh you were absolutely certain if anyone had seen the two of you in this exact moment there would be many an accusation.

“Oh? And how exactly would I do that my princess?” He mused, looking at you tenderly

Reaching to hold the wrist of the hand that held you, you stroked his wrist and hummed.

“Give me a reason to come back, Cregan Stark. A reason that isn't just snow, or the cold. Something that is more than the North. More than duty.”

He stood there, just staring back into your eyes as he thought of the declaration. To give you a true and proper reason to ride all the way back here, where he was nothing but duty and sacrifice. To give you a part of him that was something else completely. You asked this of him as if it was the easiest thing he could sacrifice in order to see you again.

It should have been a hard request to fill. A question that should have left him tormented when giving the answer.

But somehow his answer was sealed the minute you stepped into view.

“Me…Come back for me.”

In the silent moment between the two of you, all that could be heard was the howl of the wind and the beating of your hearts as they became forever joined with just a touch.

[toms-cherry-trees]

Cracked || Jacaerys Velaryon x Twin!Wife! Reader

Summary: No one ever said duty would hurt like this

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: Twincest targcest (Velaryoncest?), angst, spoilers if you haven't watched S2E2, for anti hating purposes is not explicitly stated but all characters are above 18.

Author's note: Won't you look at me, 7 months since my last HOTD fic! That scene with Jace tearing up definitely did something to me. My very first time writing for Jace, hopefully won't be the last!

Also a massive massive thank you and all my devotion to @moris-auri for beta reading this!

No one welcomes him when he lands in the Dragonmont. 

The flapping of Vermax's leathery wings is amplified, booming throughout the massive cavern, swirls of steam rising from the cracks on the dark stone. The only ones to witness his arrival are the dragon keepers, but even they are distracted, their focus on the exhausted dragon and not his equally drained rider. When they stride past him, they don’t acknowledge him at all, almost as if he doesn’t exist. Jace wonders if he is a ghost, because only in death could someone feel the agony that seeps from his bones and still be standing. 

He feels like a foreigner in this place. 

Even though he has lived on Dragonstone half his life, he feels like a foreigner. The fortress is not theirs. He doubts it never truly has been. They are just keepers of these ancient walls and the history they carry within. Dragonstone is a relic that will stand on that island for a thousand years to come, as welcoming as a gush of Northern wind on bare skin. The only warmth comes from its very core, from those who habit it and who've made the great fortress a home. 

But the home he left weeks prior is not the one he now returns to. The warmth has been snuffed and the hearth has been shattered. 

He walks with his head held high and his back straight, gaze always ahead and chin lifted in a gesture of near arrogance. He walks like an heir, because he is. He is now his mother’s heir and he must play his part, even if all he wants to do is lay his head on her lap and weep like a boy of ten. 

A moon ago he was just Jacaerys Velaryon. He was a son, a firstborn son, but with no more responsibility than studying and learning, mastering skills that would serve him purpose in 30 or 40 years. His greatest concerns were training Vermax properly, what desserts would be served after supper, and how to avoid falling into another of his siblings’ silly pranks. He had been betrothed long ago, but marriage itself was something distant, something that could wait out a few more years.

He was a brother of five with another sibling on the way; a sister. While most in the castle pined for a son, another boy, he secretly supported his mother’s longing for a little girl.

And now he is Jacaerys, Prince of Dragonstone and heir to his mother’s throne and crown. He is more Targaryen than Velaryon now. He is an envoy, a messenger, a warrior if needed be. He is a strategist and a politician. He is an asset and a threat; someone who has forged great alliances, but also has found strong enemies, their weapons aimed directly at the target behind his head, target painted there by his grandsire many a year before his birth. A wedding , hastily arranged, to strengthen their cause and their line of inheritance. 

He is a brother to just four now, and the crib has been left empty. 

Cregan Stark had been the one to break the news to him. Standing on a cramped lookout on the edge of the world, nothing but whiteness as far as the eye reached, Lord Stark had said that the Wall did more than keep savages and ice at bay. It held back death.

But death came nonetheless.

Jacaerys had managed to maintain his stance as a man and a Prince, receiving the news with unyielding stoicism, even when his knees felt weak and his body chilled, like ice had spread down his spine. But this ice was nothing like the one surrounding him, there on the edge of the North. This one burned, burned like dragonfire while stabbing him with a thousand knives, leaving him to bleed out while not allowing him to die. It stole the air from his lungs and the blood from his veins, and filled him with snow. His lungs couldn’t breathe, his heart couldn’t beat yet somehow he didn’t drop dead right there where he stood.

He recalls little of what occurred after, nothing more than brief, precise memories. Receiving Cregan’s condolences, and feeling the firm squeeze of the older man’s hand on his shoulder. Northerners parting silently to make way for him in the courtyard, where a restless Vermax awaited, his screeches rattling the windows of the nearby towers. Someone handing him a parcel, hastily wrapped, containing a sleek wolf pelt as a present for their Queen. The thunderstorm he traversed in the Riverlands, and the toll it took on Vermax to fly through it. 

The painful tightening on his throat as he wondered if he had encountered a similar one, not far from home.

Servants and courtiers make way for him, as he approaches his mother’s chambers. They bow and curtsy, and offer words of courtesy, lamenting the loss of the young Prince. Some stare out of the corner of their eye as he passes, waiting to see if the new Prince of Dragonstone will crumble like sand before their very eyes. But he never betrays himself; not a tear brimming in his eyes, not a wobble of his lips. The occasional flaring of his nostrils is the single telltale of the sorrow that simmers just beneath his skin. 

He hesitates briefly, pausing at the end of the vast hallway where the royal apartments are. Up the winding staircase, past the single set of double doors to the left, his mother awaits. No, not his mother, the Queen. She stopped being his mother the day the crown was placed atop her head, and the court of Dragonstone bent the knee before her. Grief and loss shaped her, morphing her into the leader and ruler she had been born to be. Jace can only admire her, and hope that he will be able to embrace his new role as effortlessly as she has done hers.

The double doors are pushed open by Ser Erryk. The Queen sits alone, gaze downcast and thoughts troubled, that much Jace can tell by the nervous fidgeting of her hands, twisting her rings almost compulsively. When her eyes rise to meet his, Jacerys sees in them a mirror of himself, the same exhaustion, the effort to push back and bury the wrenching misery, the bleeding wound left behind by their loss.

They are alone, just the two of them in that silent alcove. Jace could break down, weep like he hasn’t done in years and lay his head across her lap; let her slender, motherly fingers card through his hair as she assures him that all will be well in the end. But he can’t, he can’t because she’s more Queen than mother now and she’s grieving too, grieving deeper than he is and if she can keep it together then so can he, because he is her heir and he has to make her proud and be a man worthy of respect. 

The Prince doesn’t cry; the heir doesn’t cry. 

A man remains immovable and imperturbable.

He straightens his back, head held high and hands laced before him as he recounts his triumphs, the Houses he convinced to pledge for them and what each one has offered and asked them in return. This moment should have been his shining glory, with himself striding through the castle with pride and confidence, ready to announce to the council how he had secured the allegiance of the Vale and the North for their cause. He would bask in his wife’s admiration, drink the praises from her lips and show her he was ready to one day be a great King, with a great Queen by his side. 

Instead it is just them two, hidden behind doors, picking up the pieces falling from their carefully built masks before they completely fall apart. He brings good news, great news, but they matter little and now taste like ash in his mouth, burning and bitter. His victories mean nothing to him because his little brother is dead, gone 60 years before his time, and they don’t even have a body to burn and Jacaerys feels it should have been him, because he is the eldest and he should have protected him better. He should have faced their rageful uncle and died instead, but he didn’t and now he stands there, moving and doing because if he stays still the grief will swallow him whole and bury him in a pit of sand.

And then his voice breaks, the facade cracks and they both stop pretending, because pretending hurts, like gripping a white hot rod with both hands and refusing to let go even if it’s hurting you.

Her embrace is warm; her arms feel like home. With his head tucked under her chin, his cheek pressed against her chest, he feels young again. He feels the sobs racking her body, the tears dampening her face and his hair, her fingers digging on the fabric of his cloak. They sway slightly, rocking from side to side like when he was a babe of just a few days old, fussy and restless, keeping the whole holdfast awake at night because he refused to settle anywhere but on his mother’s arms. 

But now Jace suspects the motion is meant for her more than for him, to transport her to days past when she held her babes in her arms and they were safe under her wing and no one could harm them because she would sooner tear the world to pieces. Discreetly the places shift, now it's her forehead against his shoulder and his arms holding her steady. Jace feels the tears stinging his eyes and the lump blocking his throat, but he cannot break down because his mother is broken and someone must stand strong and whole and it has to be him. 

Soon, too soon,  his mother has dismissed him, sending him to his chambers to bathe and rest because they will have the funeral at sunset and they must not show weakness before the court. The cracks must be patched and hidden, no matter how deep they run. Not a single piece can fall out of place.

He drags his feet now; the weight on top of him has grown heavy. His posture slackens, his shoulders slump, the pretence is harder to hold. Sunset feels like a death sentence, because a funeral makes it real. It makes it true. Burning what they have because there is not even a body left behind to burn. That way he can no longer pretend that is not happening, that is all just a tale. And then, he will crack. No willpower will keep him whole because his brother, his little brother is dead and he has to face a future where Lucerys will not be a part of it.

He pushes his chamber door open with one shoulder, his mind blank of any thought; the encounter with his mother affected him deeper than he had anticipated, because even she is cracking and now is just him holding it together because he has to. 

And then he sees her. 

His wife sits before the hearth, so ethereal with the glow of the fire illuminating her face. Her head turns as soon as the door opens, and he immediately notices the red around her swollen eyes. At first he thinks she’s mourning, but she’s had her time to mourn and Jace knows she’s crying for him, crying because she feels the agony straining to break through his flesh. Just like they have felt each other’s every emotion for as long as they have lived, have anticipated each other’s words and read their thoughts. Connected by a bond that runs deeper than marriage, because they are of the same blood, come into the world together.

The last time he saw her before his departure, they had an ugly fight. Jacaerys had convinced their mother to keep her at Dragonstone rather than allow her to fly as an envoy, claiming they could not leave the fortress unguarded and with the larger dragons going in and out on their missions, they had to pile up their remaining strength. The Queen had agreed, and her word was final. 

She could not argue with Her Grace, but she certainly made Jacaerys know how she felt about what she perceived as a betrayal and lack of trust in herself and her abilities. Jace pleaded with her to see reason, to see things from his perspective. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in her, he would never dare to doubt her strength. But he didn’t trust the men she would encounter on her journey, nor did he want her to risk taking a long flight on her dragon and run into danger. She, always the hot headed one, had called him every name under the sun and refused to see him off, choosing instead to sulk in her chamber. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, to leave on bad terms with her, but he trusted they would talk it out upon his arrival. That all would be well and their problems would be solved.

He stands silently before her, and for the first time he feels small. So small and diminished, unwilling to look her in the eyes. His gaze is fixed on the floor because the tears are winning the battle and if they do he will crack open like a dragon egg, but no great beast will emerge, only his insecurities and his failures.

His lower lip wobbles, and he bites it so hard he leaves the imprint of his teeth. His nails dig deep in his palms in his attempt to steady their accusatory trembling. He breathes in and out, slow and steady, his eyes squeezed shut as he feels himself losing control. He cannot allow himself to lose it, not in front of her of all people, not when he is supposed to be her pride, not her embarrassment.

He hears the sharp drag of the chair as she stands, the thud of the heavy tome she had been reading being thrown rather carelessly over a table. Her steps are slow and calculated as she moves across the stone, approaching him cautiously like he is some wild beast ready to lash out. Like he is some fragile thing, so fragile that a gush of wind could break him apart.

Her hands are soft and warm as they cradle his face, gently coaxing him to look up, to meet her eyes. But he can’t, he fears he will see disappointment in them, he will see accusation, he will see her blame him for Luke’s death, for forcing her to remain back when it was their little brother who needed his protection the most. 

For failing the family.

He succumbs in the end, brown eyes gingerly rising to meet her own, bracing himself for the worst. But he sees nothing of what he expected. He sees no anger, no resentment, no pity. Just worry and tenderness, and a desolation that matches his own.

The first tears he has been holding back since Winterfell finally escape the barrier of his willpower and roll down his cheeks. He attempts to blink them away but they cannot be stopped, nor does he have the strength to stop them no more. His wife brushes some away with her thumbs, and smoothes back his hair in a tender gesture

“Jace.”

That little world, the call of his own name coming from her lips is all that it needs for the dam inside him to burst. The violent sobs rack his body, tears blurring his vision and he chokes on them, while also feeling like he’s breathing for the first time since that raven arrived at the Wall. He tries to hide his face but she won’t let him, and tears shine in her eyes too and that only makes the crying worse, because his wife is suffering and he cannot console her because he’s also suffering.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

His legs weaken and his stance falters. The same apology falls from his mouth, the small words tumbling over each other and getting lost in the incessant weeping. His knees falter and he drops down; his forehead rests against her body and his hands are on her hips, fearing he will lose her if he lets go. He sobs onto her dress, not caring anymore about being the perfect Prince and heir, about being the man everyone will respect and be proud of.

His wife drops to her knees too and holds him close, allowing his head to lay against her shoulder. The scent of her body fills his nostrils, aroma of camellias and toasted sugar. It smells of happy memories and easier days, and it evokes a sense of safety in him, of tenderness, of the happiest days of his short life. His cry doesn’t stop, but it is not only for Lucerys now. It is for his mother, for his younger brothers, for himself and for all the losses to come. He cries for his twin, his wife, for now the fear of harm coming her way has increased tenfold, and the mere idea of her being cruelly ripped from his side tears a gash on his heart.

He cries until he’s sure there are no tears left to cry. Until the weight has been lifted from his chest and he is sure he can breathe again. They remain there for what feels like mere seconds and a lifetime at the same time, locked in each other’s embrace. Her fingers card through his hair and her lips press tender kisses to his temple; his arms wrapped around her, hands pressed against her back to keep her close, as close as he can to his own heart. He would gladly stay there forever, spend the rest of his days encased in her warmth and basking in her love. But the moment is broken all too soon when a servant knocks on the door to let them know that courtiers are already gathering in the outskirts of the castle for the funeral.

Jace lets himself be guided by the hand like an obedient child to sit before her vanity. She moves around him silently; unneeded words would only break the feeble spell of calmness surrounding them.

She takes care of everything for him. Wipes his face clean with a damp cloth, presses a cool spoon to his eyes so they will not appear swollen and bloodshot. He changes into a fresh tunic, and allows her to comb his hair and powder his face to disguise the redness of his cheeks and nose. 

They stand together before the ornate mirror, both of them dressed in matching red and black. She helps him pin the cloak onto his tunic, fastening it to his right shoulder with a silver dragon brooch. Jace holds her gaze in their reflection, hoping to convey with gestures the emotions words fail to do. She understands; she always does.

He is rewarded with a kiss on the cheek, and while it does not manage to coax a smile out of him, it fills his veins with a pleasant tickling warmth, the same he felt after their first kiss and the one he hopes to feel until his last breath. 

Her fingers run up his arms gently, tracing the embroiders and trimmings of the doublet. They come to rest on his shoulders and gently push them back, straightening his posture and puffing out his chest. The right index continues the ascent, tracing the curve of the neck and the still sharpening line of the jawline before settling under his chin, pushing upwards ever so slightly to lift his head. Urging him to hold himself with pride. To unapologetically show the world that he is cracked, but not broken.

She comes to stand before him at last, smoothing down nonexistent creases from his clothes until nothing but pure perfection remains. They hold each others’ gaze for a few moments, before she reaches up to steal from him a gentle kiss.  

“All ready, My Prince.” 

This time, he smiles.

[annwrites]

sons & daughters. part five.

— pairing: cregan stark x fem!reader

— type: part of a series

— summary: your heart is broken multiple times in one day & just when you feel at the end of your rope—unable to take anymore—your heart is mended by another's loving, steady hands.

— word count: 7,815

— a/n: sorry not sorry, but i fuckin' love angst.

pls ignore the scene from the image i chose & pretend it is instead a scene that takes place during this chapter lol.

the song lost by kris allen is what made me come up with all the angsty bits at the beginning of this installment. listened to it on repeat while writing this chapter, too. just thought it was worth mentioning, incase anyone wants to listen while reading!

— tagging list: @beebeechaos @crypticlxrsh @amindfullofmonsters @yeolsbubbles @icefrye19 (more tagged in comments bc tumblr is dumb & won't let me tag you all here)

When you wake the next morning, it is with a sense of belonging. For the first time in all your life.

A contended smile spreads across your lips as you snuggle further into your furs.

Furs which still smell of him.

Last night, you had begun to drift off in Cregan’s arms, your body feeling light and warm, so he had picked you up and carried you over to your bed, so you might rest.

He’d bent down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then brushing one over your lips, and as soon as he made to step away, you’d reached out for him, grabbing his fingertips, and asked him to stay.

He’d not refused. Instead, he had laid down next to you, wrapping you in his arms once more as the two of you continued to share soft kisses and gentle touches before you closed yours eyes for the night.

After breaking your fast, even if you had felt too excited to eat, Alia helps you dress. Afterward, you hug her with joy, to which she is quite taken aback, but she only laughs and tells you that you are welcome and she then leaves you.

You begin to open the door to your room, wishing desperately to seek Cregan out, just to be near him. Wherever he goes today—whatever he does—you only want to be beside him during.

And that is when you hear the news.

Your door is open no more than a crack—barely, at that—and you watch in silence at two older men go walking by.

“Yes, Lord Stark is most certainly considering a betrothal to the Lady Blackwood. It would do well to have such an arrangement in the possible wars to come. Their forces joined with ours would add volume to our ranks.”

The second man hums. “He has ruminated on the offer for some time. I believe it bodes well, however, that he has not rejected it outright. He is, instead, as always, acting with caution and measured thought. The loss of the Lady Arra was keenly felt by all, but it is time.”

You softly shut your door, pressing your forehead to it as your stomach twists so painfully it makes you wince—your bowels turning to water.

You’d trusted him. How…how could you have done such a thing?

Why did you not listen to Jace instead? He's a young man himself, and thus knows their ways of thinking.

Lord Stark had played you quite well, like that of a game of Cyvasse.

He’d slowly drawn you in by bestowing you with his attentions—pretending that he cared—and then had given you small touches and suggestive comments to preen your interest, showering you with gifts and compliments, until your head was spinning and you couldn’t think straight. Or, until all you could think of was love.

You had been raised in King's Landing of all places. What, then? Had you truly—in a matter of only a handful of days—forgotten how to read someone when they are lying to you?

And he had spoken of honor.

Mayhaps he has it, but not when it comes to you.

No. Never you.

And you'd let him into your bed. Nothing had happened—not yet—but now… Now you understood why he had asked for ‘more time’. More time to wrap you round his finger until he was able to finally claim what he desired from you, only to then marry another.

No one will ever want you for love.

You should’ve never started believing otherwise. Not for a day, or a moment.

Coming here had been a great mistake. You regret ever having met him now.

Tears sting your eyes and bile rises in your throat as you think of last night. You, seated in his lap as you allowed his hands to wander.

Whore.

That is what you are.

First, you had permitted Aemond to touch you in such ways—had let him to whisper and insinuate vile things toward you—and just allowed it—because you had actually enjoyed it.

You are not a princess who possesses self-respect. You are instead… You are your mother’s daughter. A mother who has now bedded how many men? You have her disposition.

Don’t you?

Harlot.

You squeeze your eyes shut, struggling to breathe. The room is too cramped. Too crowded. You feel like you are suffocating.

You wrench your door open, needing to be outside. You’ll go to the Godswood. You want to be alone. You begin to mentally pray that he stays away from you.

You need think on how best to word to Jace that you wish to go home now. You won’t tell him anything about Lord Stark because, no matter what has transpired between the two of you, you all need the northern army.

You will tell him that you are not faring well in this northern weather. That you have changed your mind. Going to the Wall would be—at least for you—ill-advised. A foolish thing to consider in the first place, as it is not a place for women. You will thus not intrude.

You nearly slip going down the stairs which lead into the Great Hall, but catch yourself, choking back a sob, your heart having jumped into your throat.

You walk briskly toward the doors which lead outside, and then with bleary eyes, step out. You lower your head, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze.

Alone.

You want to be left alone.

You wrap your arms round yourself, having forgotten your cloak.

You do not want the one he purchased for you now, knowing it is a lie. Same as the items he’d procured for you yesterday.

You will leave them behind when you go. You want nothing more from him.

It is just as you are about to pass the stables that you hear a young man calling for you. “Princess Y/N!”

You quickly wipe hot tears from your cheeks before turning back to him, refusing to meet his eyes.

“A raven came for you,” he states, holding a scroll toward you.

You gingerly take it from him with a slight nod. “Thank you.”

When Cregan emerges into the yard, a broad smile crosses his lips just at the mere sight of you.

Gods, how good it had felt to have you in his arms the night last.

You, curled into his side, tucked close with furs all around you as you dreamt—one of your soft, dainty hands resting over his heart, which now belongs wholly to you.

He had laid there for awhile—a long while (So long, in fact, that he had nearly fallen asleep beside of you, but refused to, even if he'd desperately wished for as much. He would not risk a servant, or even your brother—his new close friend—finding him with you in such a state, ruining your reputation; it means far too much to him. You do.)—imagining each night for the rest of his days being that way.

To have you lain bare beside him as he runs his rough hands along your soft body, telling you how beautiful and dear you are to him—that he will spend the rest of his days caring for and protecting you—he can imagine no finer fate.

The Gods blessed him by sending you to him.

You are meant to be together as one.

Now and always.

He had worried for so long after Arra passed that his grief would never cease, until it eventually turned to numbness. But when he set eyes upon you that first day as you looked around you in wonder at his home, his body awakened once more. After that, he could do naught else but think of you.

The morning he sparred with Jace, his irritation had partially been due to finding out you mayhaps loved another, yes, but also due to his advisors. If he heard the name 'Black Aly' one more time, he'd been sure he would fly into a black rage.

And he nearly had.

He didn't wish for her. He wished for genteelness. And there you were before him at last.

Cregan only manages not even a handful of steps in your direction before he stops, his brows furrowing as he watches your disposition suddenly change.

You stare down at a piece of parchment within your hands, looking at it in disbelief—near-agony—before turning your face upward, staring into the sky as if you're looking for...explanation. For something.

He needs to know what has happened.

And then you nod softly, looking forward again, a final look of resignation crossing your features as you quickly wipe tears angrily from your cheeks, a scowl settling onto your lips as you head toward the training yard.

Jace's smile quickly fades as he sees you heading toward him looking...not yourself. Pale, angry, utterly upset.

"Sister, what is—"

You hold out the missive toward him and he takes it with furrowed brows, waiting for you to say something—anything—but you instead remain silent, staring at him, waiting for him to read.

And so he does, his expression morphing into incredulity and then horrification. He begins to shake his head rapidly, his eyes meeting your own once again.

"This—this cannot be."

"It is."

"You cannot mean to—"

"I do."

He steps closer to you. "Dalton Greyjoy is a mad-man—a bloodthirsty beast. He already has over two score wives!"

You snatch the piece of parchment from him, quickly rolling it up and clutching it in a tight grip. "And now he will have yet one more."

You clench your jaw before continuing. "He has promised to make me his rock wife—his one true bride."

"They—they call him the Red Kraken, do you not know why?!"

"Because he is a fierce warrior of the Iron Islands. We will need men like him in the wars to come."

"You are better than this," he tries to insist.

And it is then that you snap. "This is what I am!" You shout, shaking the correspondence held tightly within your fist.

You force yourself to quiet, now that curious eyes are looking your way.

"He has a fleet of ships and fearless reavers. They will do us well against the Greens."

"We have a fleet through Lord Corlys," he snaps back.

"And now we shall have a larger one. As of this moment, I consider myself Lord Greyjoy's betrothed. He desires a princess, so a princess he shall have."

He shakes his head, grabbing your arm, desperate to talk you out of this.

You are not thinking clearly.

"You will be miserable there. You...you will waste away at Pyke as—as lonely and—"

You take a step back, yanking your arm from his grip. "As you said, he has a great many wives. Plenty to share in my misery. We shall do so together."

"What of Cregan? I had thought that the two of you...that something more was developing."

Your eyes turn hard, hateful. "We have nothing. He is our ally. That is all. I cannot wait for a proposal that will never come. I have one here and now, and I must take it before another claims him as their Lord Husband instead."

He scoffs, shocked at your flippant attitude toward a man he had been sure he had seen you only a day past looking at with love.

"I need you to promise me that come first light tomorrow you will return me to Dragonstone to inform mother that I have accepted and must be delivered at once to Pyke."

Tears sting his eyes. His sister. His twin. He...he can't just let you do this.

"Sister, please—"

"Promise me, Jace, or I will make arrangements myself."

There is a terse silence, and then he nods in surrender.

You turn to walk away then, unable to discuss it any further.

It is done.

"I had merely hoped for better prospects for you," he calls softly from behind you.

You stand with your back to him for just a moment as you quickly reply. "Better isn't coming, Jace. War is. And we must all play our part."

You continue on, mumbling, with a sneer, "Including me."

Cregan stumbles back at your words, hiding himself in the armory, eavesdropping through a window as you renounce yourself—your future—to one where you will be tore to a thousand pieces until not a single whole one remains.

All in the name of what? Your family winning a sea-faring battle or two?

You had said the two of you had nothing. Why...why would you think such a thing? Mayhaps because he had asked for time, and in this moment, you filled with doubt toward him.

No one will ever want me for love.

He has now made you think of him as just one more man who sees you as only what you are, instead of who. All the touches and suggestive looks...

Oh Gods, what has he fucking done?

He's about to lose you.

The future which he had envisioned, between waking fantasies and sleeping dreams now rests upon a precipice. One you are about to step over the edge of, never to return to him.

The thought of you there in one of those towering castles over the sea, staring out the window, empty and hopeless and heartbroken with not a single soul to save you from not just him, but yourself—a nightmarish fate—he can't bear the thought.

He clutches his chest, coughing, his heart squeezing painfully. An all-too familiar feeling he'd thought he'd long moved past some time after Arra's passing, but it returns to him now at the thought of you walking away from him. From the North.

It's your home now. It's meant to be. You are supposed to remain here where you most belong. The Gods themselves had ordained it.

He looks down to the scroll protruding from his pocket, meant to be flown to your mother to ask her for your hand, and he knows: his time to do things right by you has already run out in an instant.

There will be no asking her now, but instead you.

Your wishes are all that matter in this moment.

He has to save you. He...he has to keep you where you are loved and wanted and safe.

He steps out, heading back inside, knowing what he must now do.

Once you have returned to your chambers, you lock the door and step swiftly over to your wardrobe, ripping gowns from the hangers—you hear one tear, but care not—and begin stuffing them into the bag you had brought with you.

You angrily wipe gathering tears from your bleary eyes as you grab your shoes from beneath your bed and pack them away as well.

And then you spot it. The cloak he had gifted you.

You swipe it from the back of the settee and make to throw it into the fire, but pause, your fist hovering just before the flames, the black material softly swaying.

You then cry out in frustration and toss it into a corner.

No one will ever want you for love.

You throw your bag so hard against a chair that it scoots a few inches across the floor.

You then bury your face in the mattress and scream, clutching the sheets, the furs, losing yourself.

You gasp for air, hand settling over your abdomen as you try to calm it, fearing you may be sick.

No one will ever want you for love.

You tear at the back of your gown, you rip the sleeves off, as well as the neckline and it finally pools at your feet. You crawl into bed then and cry yourself back to sleep.

No one will ever marry you for love.

Your brows furrow.

You...you're not meant to be here. You don't want to be. Why have you returned to the Red Keep?

You step closer to a window. Snow...in the south and during the summer. Something isn't right.

Mama.

You turn down one hall and then another, until you finally reach your royal apartments.

When you step inside, she's there, but so is Daemon, the two of them twined around one another, their grasping hands dripping with blood.

"M-Mama?"

Her expression is that of indifference when she looks upon you.

Daemon smirks as he glances across the room. "You may call me father now instead."

You follow his line-of-sight and gasp, stumbling backwards, knocking something over.

A charred body lies half-inside the room's hearth, and not but a few feet from it, a golden cloak with a pile of ashes atop it.

Laenor. Harwin.

No.

No.

Not them.

Please not them.

You begin to wildly shake your head as you turn, yanking against the door's handle and when you emerge back into the hall, it has changed.

You're...you're in Winterfell, aren't you?

Dark wooden walls, braziers flickering softly, the howl of a wolf in the distant night.

"Cregan," you whisper to yourself.

He will help you.

You begin racing down the halls, heart beating wildly, unable to get that horrid sight out of your head.

And then you come to his door and you know you are safe.

You knock softly, and you hear feet padding toward you.

It opens.

"What is she doing here?" You hear a woman call from behind him as he stares down at you in irritation.

"I don't want you here," he says through clenched teeth.

You whimper in fear, tears stinging your eyes. "But—"

A lithe young woman comes around the side of him, raven-black curls falling over her shoulders, her form completely naked.

She glances to you with disinterest and then to Cregan. "Come back to bed. Forget about her."

He smiles, cupping her cheek, and nodding as he slams the door in your face.

You choke back a terrified sob, having no idea where else to now go.

No one wants you.

No one.

No one will ever want you for love.

You need to steal a horse and ride south.

To King's Landing.

Aemond.

Aemond wants you.

You will go to him. He loves you. Doesn't he?

Then perhaps we steal away in the dark of night, married in secret by a septon, you hear whispered in your ear from an indeterminable location.

Let us finally be free of our gilded cages, beloved niece. Together, he continues; you feeling familiar hands then holding you safely.

Yes.

Free.

You will be. Together. Just like he said.

"Sister, you must wake."

You go to swat Jace's hand away from your shoulder. "Leave me be, Jace. I wish to rest."

You shove your face into the pillow, exhausted.

"Lord Cregan has summoned us both to his solar."

"Whatever it is does not require me, I'm sure. Please, Jace, just go."

He sighs. "He has demanded us both be present. He says it's of utmost importance and cannot wait."

Your eyes slowly open, your stomach beginning to twist again. You don't want to see or be near him. Do not wish to so much as hear his voice.

The morrow cannot come soon enough.

You sit up, feeling dizzy. "Has word come from home? Has something happened?"

He shrugs. "He wouldn't say. It is why you must come at once."

You finally stand, grabbing the cloak which you rode in with and turn to him, not even bothering with shoes or proper clothing.

Jace thinks to tell you to put on a suitable dress, but when he looks into your eyes and see they are naught but void, he holds his tongue.

He wraps his arm round your shoulders as he leads you out and into the hall, and toward the awaiting Lord Cregan.

When the two of you enter the private meeting room, you merely stare at the floor as you take a seat beside Jace.

Cregan notes with dejection how you refuse to so much as look at him. How you look unkempt—your hair in tangles, only a thin cloak covering your frame, your complexion wan, and eyes puffy and red from crying.

Oh, his sweet girl.

But your pain will soon be soothed and all will be right once more.

You stare numbly out the open window to the right, drowning out whatever Lord Stark and Jace discuss. You do not much care. About anything.

Not anymore.

The full moon emerges from behind clouds, the evening sky gradually growing dark as night begins to fall.

Looking at the moon does not bring them back to you now. Nothing will.

They're gone.

Dead.

And then you wonder if Aemond can see it, too. If he is looking at it thinking of you as well. Would it be night in King's Landing? You doubt it, but when it is, perhaps he will share the sight with you.

The last time you saw him was the last, wasn't it? There would be no returning.

You hope he lets go of you and does not waste his days awaiting a girl who is now lost to him.

A tear slips down your cheek and your chin wobbles, your heart cleaving in two.

Jace is fortunate to have Baela, and Luke Rhaena. At least they will all have fondness in their marriages, if nothing else. What will you have, you wonder? A man who comes to you in the dark of night stinking of death and slick with blood as he claims what will then rightfully belong to him, even if you do not wish it.

What you want doesn't matter.

Mayhaps it never did.

A pawn to be moved about the board. That is all you are.

Mayhaps...you are not really here.

Another tear slips free and you sniffle.

Jace finally turns to you with an elated look upon his face. "What say you, then, sister?"

You slowly turn your head to look at him, your expression blank.

You blink once before standing, both men doing so as well.

You hold your cloak tightly around your trembling form. "Please, forgive me, Lord Stark, Jace. I do not feel well and wish to retire to my chambers to rest. I have a long journey tomorrow and will need it."

You go to step away, Cregan's heart beginning to break, but Jace grabs your arm. "Did you not hear what Lord Stark said?" He asks, his tone panicked.

You slip your arm from his grip. "Whatever is the matter, Jace, I am confident you and Lord Stark will resolve it together. My presence here is unnecessary."

You walk toward the door, your heart in your throat. You need to get out, need to get away from him.

No one will ever want you for love.

"Sister!" Jace calls.

"Princess. Y/N!" Cregan says, coming closer toward you.

Your twin spins you round to him, your back now pressed to the door.

You can't breathe. You just want them to let you go. You can't be here.

"Please, Jace, let me go!" You shout through blinding tears.

"Just—Y/N, listen—" he starts, but you step to the side.

"I don't feel well, please!" You choke out through violent sobs.

Gods, what is happening to you?

Finally, Cregan has had enough and lightly pushes Jace aside as he takes your face between his hands, even as you shove against his chest.

The feel of him...you do not want it. Why is he doing this?

"I have asked your brother for your hand in marriage."

You blink up at him, hiccuping, a long pause of silence.

"W-what?"

He brushes hot tears from your soft cheeks, his heart breaking at the sight of you being this distant to him.

"I would take you for my Lady Wife. Tonight."

"Why?" You ask with furrowed brows, mind spinning.

He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"Because of your beauty, your grace, and your genteelness. Your strength and resolve to do what needs be done in the name of your family, even to your own detriment. You are loyal. And you love whom you love fiercely."

He runs his knuckles gently along your cheek. "I will admit that since the passing of my late Lady Wife that I have received a considerable amount of offers of marriage. None have yet tempted me. Until I set eyes upon you. I was captivated body and soul. The thought of relinquishing you to another who would not appreciate you..."

He shakes his head. "Who would not protect nor value you? Would not treat you as tenderly as I might? It grieves me to consider such a thing."

He takes a step closer. "So, let us prevent it: our mutual agony of losing what can so easily be ours. Agree. Take my hand. And remain in the North where you belong. By my side, where you belong. You said once that the North felt like home to you. Princess—Y/N—you feel like home to me. So do not take yourself from me in the name of a fleet of ships or a small army. I beg of you."

He leans down, kissing you, caring not for what Jace may think. "I will give you the might of the North—and you, the title of Lady of Winterfell and Wardeness of the North. I can think of no one more deserving."

You stare up at him, in disbelief, sure you are imagining this. Not hearing him correctly.

You break then, sobbing, unable to catch your breath as you drown in a sea of tears.

Cregan merely pulls you into his chest, his large hand cradling the back of your head as his other arm wraps round you to keep you close.

You don't see, but he gives Jace a silent look, asking him to leave the two of you alone for a moment.

He replies with a solemn nod, silently slipping out of the room.

Cregan presses his lips to the top of your head, your body continuing to quiver in fear.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers. "For allowing you to feel for even a moment that I do not love you."

You cling to him, your cries eventually quieting as a feeling of weariness instead overtakes you.

“What about Lady Blackwood?” You ask quietly.

He pulls back, continuing to hold you to him, cupping your cheek once more.

His brows furrow. “Where did you hear that name?”

“I…this morn, when I was about to leave my room I heard men in the halls. Passing by. They spoke of a betrothal to her. Rather, that you were seriously considering one…”

He understands then. You’d thought he’d been playing you like a wolf with its prey all this time, while another waited for him to take the hand of.

Gods, his poor, sweet girl.

Your eyes fill with tears again.

He tenderly tucks a lock of hair behind your ear. “For some time now my advisors have tried to encourage a union between us—between me and any highborn lady, in truth—so I might produce further heirs. I waited, however. I had married once for love and…”

He sighs. “If I had to marry again out of duty, I would have. But then you came to me, and the moment I set eyes upon you, something within me shifted. It was as if I had become alive once more. The thought of losing that feeling again—losing you?”

He presses an achingly soft kiss to your lips. “It would drive me to the brink of madness.”

He lowers himself to one knee then, holding your hand. “Y/N, I beg of you, in the name of the Gods—Old and New—be my bride this night. Be my wife. My Lady. Be…mine. Let me care for and love and cherish you for the rest of my days. Rather, our days. Do not take yourself from me only to hand yourself over to a monster. I’ll do anything just to make you say yes. So, please—”

“Yes.”

He stops, relief filling his very soul. “You will?”

You nod gently. “Yes.”

He stands on two feet again, pulling you back to his chest.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

You nod, your eyes fluttering closed, tears slipping down your cheeks as your heart finally calms.

“I don’t have a wedding gown,” you say quietly.

He nods. “I have something that may suit you. If it does not, wear whatever you wish. All that matters to me is that we become one this night.”

He wraps his cloak around you which hangs from his shoulders, for warmth, you enveloped in his arms.

“I love you,” he whispers.

You then stand on tiptoes, reaching for him and he leans down to meet your lips.

“And I you,” you reply, tears shimmering in your eyes.

Jace had been waiting outside as you and Cregan spoke and had been beyond pleased when your betrothed informed him of the good news—that you were to be wed this very night, because you had graciously accepted his proposal.

He could’ve nearly cried from the relief of it all.

His good friend settled—he could tell the young lord was desolate; raising his son all alone with no one of his own to love—and his sister, his twin, to be married to a strong and warm and honorable man.

He could not have imagined a better match.

He is only beyond grateful that a far worse one will now never come about.

So, Cregan had asked your brother to deliver you back to your chambers while he procured for you a gown.

And when he delivered it unto you, it took your breath away.

“It was my mother’s,” he’d stated, settling it into your arms.

Your eyes met his then, filling yet again with tears. “It’s beautiful.”

He had ran his fingers gently along your cheek. “She would have adored you just as I do. I think she would be…quite proud for you to be wearing her dress.”

You’d looked behind you, to your room, then back to him. “I truly hope it will fit.”

He'd nodded. “If it doesn’t, it is still yours to keep.”

Your smile had wobbled as you swallowed thickly. “Thank you.”

As Alia readied you for the ceremony, Cregan readied his household. He had promised you that tonight, things would be quiet and intimate. No grand gathering. That, if you wished for one, it would come later.

This evening was about the two of you and no one else.

You had told him vowing to be bound together for life was more than enough for you. Festivities were not necessary.  

The dress is a bit snug, but fits well enough, and it is beautiful. Lace trim, soft gossamer and silk, a long, flowing skirt, with a bodice in the shape of a heart, and the sleeves shimmer against firelight.

You’re grateful to Cregan for allowing you to not only wear, but have this dress. You suppose, in a way, it makes you feel closer to her: his mother. She must have been a lovely woman to raise such a man.

Your hair is long and flowing, with a crown of small white roses adorning your brow, pearls scattered throughout your curls. And you wear the necklace he gifted you of a small silver snowflake.

The final touch is a soft brown fur wrap—made of rabbit—which Alia lays over your shoulders before nodding her head. “I think that should do it, Princess. You look perfect.”

You take her hands in yours. “Y/N, please. This…this is going to be my home now. I would like…I’d very much like for us to be friends. Would you?”

She nods, smiling. “I would.”

Jace’s breath is taken away by your beauty. How you look every inch a northerner. How quickly you were able to transform into one… He wonders, now, if this place has not been awaiting your arrival all this time. Or, you it.

He offers you his arm. “Shall we?”

You take it, nodding. “Don’t let me fall.”

He presses a kiss to your hair, careful not to mess so much as a strand. “Never.”

“Father, Mother, Maiden, Smith, Warrior, Crone, Stranger. I am his, and he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.”

The Septon speaks, finalizing the ceremony. “Let all bear witness to the union of Lord Cregan of House Stark, and Princess Y/N of Houses Targaryen and Velaryon, being now bound together as one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be they who should seek to tear them asunder.”

A solitary tear slips down your cheek, and over your lips, which mingles between yours and Cregan’s as he takes your face between his hands, and kisses you long and deep. And passionately.

All cheer and laugh and smile, including Jace and Alia—your brother standing as Cregan’s best man, and Alia as your maid-of-honor.

And you know then, it was always meant to be him.

From the beginning, the Godswood in the Red Keep had been the place you went to for refuge and peace. Northern tales had always been your favorite as a child. And snowfall was something you’d desired to one day see—feel upon your skin—for as long as you could recall.

Even just a few days past, Cregan had wrapped you in his cloak before this very same tree. The Gods had known, even if the two of you hadn’t.

They always had.

Dinner is celebratory, but not exactly a grand affair. There is music and drink and hearty foods to be had, while a fire roars in the great hearth.

As the servants had been given short notice, in place of a cake, biscuits with jam and honey are served, which you and your new Lord Husband serve to one another, kissing each other’s face’s clean with many laughs and smiles.

A few journey into Winter Town to visit late-open shops and return with small wedding gifts: fine materials for you and colorful threads, books, and collections of decorative candles. You take all graciously and with a great many thanks, promising they will all be put to use. You even place a few of the candles atop the hearth’s mantle, their wicks flickering as people dance and converse.

For Cregan, he is gifted a couple small ornate daggers, and a pelt, along with a new whetstone. His insistence that he wants for nothing is ignored.

Once things begin to wind down, he turns to you, his hand sliding along your back, to then grip your hip and pull you close as he whispers into your ear “it is time for us to retire, my love”.

You merely lick your lips and nod.

You’ve never been in Cregan’s chambers before tonight. You suppose now they are also yours.

Your chambers.

And the first thing you notice is just how very organized he is. Unusual for a man, you deem. Unless, of course, that is in thanks to the servants having readied the room while the two of you were celebrating.

The door stands behind you and to your right is a large desk, with stacks of parchment, a collection of quills and an inkpot that you’re sure must be the size of your palm.

To the left is a row of hooks mounted to the stone wall, which holds cloaks and furs.

The mantle above the hearth has a long row of well-loved books placed atop it, with worn metal bookends in the shape of howling direwolves.

The same as your room, there is a large settee before the hearth, with brown and dark blue blankets lain across the back.

To the right of it, in the corner, is a wardrobe.

The opposite wall has a set of double-doors, the top portion of which are stained-glass windows that are the sigil of his house, painted in white and black and light blue, small, sheer curtains hanging over them. Beside those doors, a small square table for eating, with stuffed chairs on either side.

And finally, there is a large, four-post bed, turned down, with plenty of blankets and pillows and yes, more furs. On either side are wooden end-tables, and at the foot of the bed, a chest with cushions atop it.

You step over to the hearth and look at the large sword which is mounted on brass hooks atop it.

“Ice,” Cregan states, coming to stand behind you. “The ancestral sword of our house.”

Our house. It warms you to hear him say it.

You lean back against him, smiling softly as his arms wrap around you.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this…content before,” you remark.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, before gently turning you around in his arms to face him.

He removes the flower crown from your brow, tossing it back onto the settee—perhaps you will press it into a book tomorrow for safe-keeping—before brushing a kiss over your lips. “I’ve not for a very long time now.”

He cups the back of your head, bringing his lips down to your own, his mouth moving slowly against yours, tongue tasting you as his fingers move to the back of your dress, unlacing it.

He kisses down your cheek and your jaw, coming back up to your ear. “Let us bind ourselves as one in this final way, my love.”

A pulse forms between your legs and you nod, your eyes fluttering closed as you push his cloak from his shoulders and it falls to the floor with a soft thud.

He brings his lips back to your own as he tugs your gown down, down, down, until it, too, has pooled at your feet.

You pull away for only a moment, gently folding it before placing it delicately upon the lounge.

He slips his fingers beneath the straps of your shift, and he grips either side in his hands and pulls it down your body.

He dips his head, kissing the tops of each of your breasts and your fingers tangle in his hair, a sigh escaping your lips.

His hands then slide lower, slipping your smallclothes from your waist, and once you have toed off your shoes, all that is left are your thigh-high stockings.

You reach down, gripping the tops of them, until you feel his finger under your chin.

“Leave them.”

With that, he cradles your body in his arms, carrying you over to the bed and he lies you back on fresh sheets as he stands at the foot of it.

You feel as if every nerve ending is exposed as you lie back on your forearms, your legs spread as you watch him undress himself.

He removes his jerkin, then reaches behind him, gripping his shirt back and tugging it over his head, his eyes returning to yours, watching how you lick your lips as he begins to unlace his breeches.

He had, admittedly, once wondered what the hair covering that most delicate part of you would be like in color. He is pleased to find it matches perfectly that which is atop your head.

He toes off his boots, then shoves down his trousers, along with his socks, leaving himself naked before you.

Your eyes widen as he takes his long, thick member in-hand and begins to stroke it.

Your eyes flit back to his, heat pooling between your thighs. Gods, you want him to touch you again.

Yours. All yours.

He takes a step forward, his thighs hitting the edge of the bed. “I don’t want for you to be afraid. I promise you that I’ll be as gentle as I can be.”

You shake your head.

“I’m not,” you reply breathlessly.

He nods, then climbs atop you, pressing his lips to yours and kisses you so achingly slow, removing his hand from himself and instead trailing it down your sensitive skin, your body jerking at the touch, a sigh escaping your lips as he moves to your neck, his fingers coming to explore your hot, wet core.

You gasp, wrapping your arms around his neck, the ends of his hair tickling your breasts as he moves his mouth lower, taking a peaked nipple inside of it, rolling it gently between his teeth.

Your back arches, his other hand slipping beneath it, holding you closely as his dextrous fingers spread your labia, gently massaging.

Your eyes roll back in your head.

“Oh, Gods,” you whisper.

You’ve touched yourself before. Many a time. But for another to do it—for him? You fear you may be reluctant to ever leave this bed—at the very least this room—after tonight.

He presses a hot, wet kiss between your breasts, then your stomach, his hands gripping your hips before he playfully peppers kisses on your cheeks and chin and nose, earning him a bubbly giggle from your lips.

He is glad to hear it. He doesn’t want you tensed up and anxious this night. He wants you to enjoy yourself. To experience just how pleasurable and intimate lovemaking can be.

His eyes gaze into your own, warm and full of love. “Are you ready, my darling?”

You nod, lifting your hips to meet his. “Yes.”

He presses his lips to yours, begins to rub the tip of himself against your dripping entrance—pleased to find you so ready for him—and he eases inside, breaking through your maidenhead.

You gasp against his lips, tears stinging your eyes.

He presses his forehead to your own. “Breathe, my love. Lift your hips for me again, darling.”

You do, and he sinks deeper, the pain quickly turning into something wholly different as he fills you.

“Gods,” he whispers in your ear as you clench around him for the first time.

He moves one hand into your curls, the other sliding down your thigh, lifting your leg onto his back as he begins to rock his hips against yours, a low moan emitting from the back of his throat at the feel of you.

You coat the length of him, the sound of your arousal meeting his ears as he eases out and then back in so, so slowly.

You lie your head back against the mountain of pillows behind you, soft furs lie beneath your sensitive, naked skin, the fire warming every inch of you.

You feel…somehow euphoric. The two of you joined together as one—literally—causes a small sob to escape your lips.

His head jerks up and he stares down at your tear-streaked cheeks. “Are you in pain? Should I stop—”

You shake your head vigorously. “I’m happy.”

He smiles before pressing his lips back to your own, easing back inside of you.

He then begins to lean up, gripping your waist and settling you into his lap, your bodies chest-to-chest as his hands tug against your hips, encouraging you to find your own pace.

You begin to undulate beneath his instructive hands, your body quivering as his callused palms rub against your back. He lies his head against your breasts and you run your fingers through the tangled strands of his hair, pressing soft kisses to the top of his head.

“I love you,” you whisper, your heart filled to the brim.

His lips come to hover over your own. “And I you.”

“I regret making arrangements for us three to travel to the Wall tomorrow with our retinue,” Cregan states, his fingertips ghosting across the soft skin of your back.

You lift your head, removing your hand from his chest and instead cupping his cheek.

He continues as he turns more toward you. “For I do not wish to allow you out of this bed for at least a sennight.”

He presses yet another kiss to your already swollen lips with a cheeky grin.

You smile, feeling a pleasant soreness between your legs where he has already spilled his seed thrice—once with your legs thrown over his shoulders as he pounded away relentlessly inside of you. That position… You’d been able to form naught more than garbled words and cries of pleasure during.

“Nor do I.”

You slide a leg between both of his. “Mayhaps we could reschedule our visit?”

“Wish that we could, but I already sent a raven, which may have already reached them. At the very least, will be shortly.”

He cups your cheek. “You should know that is why I wished to wait to propose to you. This morn, I had intended to send a request to your mother for your hand. And then I heard that you…intended to take another to husband. I merely wished to do things the right way. Not just because it is—right—but because I know how much your family means to you.”

You flush. “About that…”

He leans over you with furrowed brows, and you cup his cheek with a nervous smile. “I hope you do not find it presumptuous, but just before Jace and I took to flight atop Vermax, my mother told me that…due to your young age, and knowing that you are a widower…”

Your eyes flit from his chest, then back to his own. “She told me if love were to grow—if you asked for my hand and I felt it right; I desired it, then I was to give you both our blessing. So you already had it.”

His lip twitches. “All that upset due to naught more than misunderstandings on both sides.”

He takes your hand in his, brushing a kiss over your fingers. “I will forever regret that for even a moment you doubted the love which I now hold for you.”

You shake your head, curling your fingers against his stubbled cheek. “When did you know?”

“When I saw you with Rickon. That morn, I had gone to the Godswood to pray, asking for the Gods to give me a sign—any—if it was meant to be. For I wished for you—to have you. To claim you as mine own. Desperately. The conversation we had in Winter Town made me doubtful, if for a moment. It is…why I changed tactics,” he states with a raised brow.

“I wanted you assured that I was a man who chased after that which he desires most—that I do not relent easily—and that was you. But it was also a matter of whether you wished to be chased. Seeing you with my son, I knew that was at an end, and commitment was to be what remained. That we belonged together. As one.”

He presses a kiss to your warm forehead. “And when I heard you telling Jace…heard you ready to resign yourself to such a horrifying future, I knew the time I thought I had, had then run out.”

He brushes his lips over yours. “It shattered my heart to see you so…heartbroken tonight. You could not even stand my touch. To think I nearly lost you—”

You crush your lips to his. “I am yours.”

You climb into his lap, straddling him, easing him back inside of you.

He grips your hips firmly. “You are mine.”

[brokenmenswhore]

Omg sooooo true about all the Jace fics being so soft!! But did you see that man this season! The sass, the angriness, the hatred for his enemies. He finally had a voice and it was so fucking hot!! Please give me more rough sex with Jace!! Bonus points for choking pretty please!!

don’t gotta ask me twice, this isn’t super long but i think you’ll still enjoy it ;) i also have another ask that just says more mean rough jace so here ya go

if you don’t leave soon | jacaerys velaryon

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader

warnings: choking, smut (MDNI 18+), wax play

────── ☾ ──────

Jacaerys was always handsome to you, but lately, he was hot. Like really, really, hot.

When you were present at council meetings, you noticed that Jacaerys would actually speak up and make his voice heard. He was becoming more vocal toward his mother as well, and was truly asserting himself as heir to the throne. Ever since his business in Winterfell, he wore his hair down, his natural dark curls framing his exquisite bone structure perfectly.

He was always frustrated as of late, and the veins on the hand that rested on the hilt of his sword would tense and flex as he gripped it tighter and tighter. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

You couldn’t get him out of your head.

Even just being in the same room as him turned you on, your legs clenching together in your seat as your body instinctively turned toward him.

He was consuming your every thought, every move, and every dream. It became unbearable. Your desire for Jacaerys was controlling your entire life.

You needed air. You needed to spend the hours in the dead of night distracted, rather than in your chambers with your hand between your legs and Jacaerys on your mind.

You tied your robe closed around your nightdress, taking a deep breath as you snuck out of your chambers and headed toward the outdoor overlook, in desperate need of the nighttime air on your face to calm your desires down.

You slowly creaked open the door to the council room, intent on just passing through to arrive at your destination, when you saw Jacaerys seated at the council table.

He was slouched in his chair, an elbow resting on the table as leverage for him to rest his head in his palm. He was inspecting the table, deep in thought. So deep, in fact, that he didn’t even hear you come in.

You were a mere few feet behind him when you broke the silence. “Jace?”

Jace’s body jolted slightly when you spoke, violently snapping him out of his trance. “Hey.”

“Are you alright? It’s rather late,” you asked.

“Just thinking,” he answered, his eyes still transfixed to the table in front of him.

“I do not wish to disturb you,” you said, unsure of what else to say, but you didn’t make an effort to leave.

Jacaerys lifted his head and finally turned toward you. “You are not disturbing me.”

You gave him a small smile in response. The air was thick between you two, the silence awkward and deafening. The flames from the candles on the table flickered, illuminating his features as they danced. He looked so pretty. You couldn’t move, you couldn’t speak, and most importantly, you couldn’t look away.

You had to say something. You couldn’t just awkwardly stand somewhat behind him and stare at him forever, but you desperately didn’t want to leave. “Want some company?”

Jacaerys smiled at you. “Sure.”

You sat down in the chair closest to him. He was at the head of the table, and you were seated beside him, slightly around the bend. You were turned toward him, allowing you to watch him even more.

You sat in silence for several minutes. You were in awe of his beauty, his appearance in the late hour driving your hormones wild.

Jacaerys finally spoke first. “I secured a partnership in the Riverlands today.”

It was not at all what you expected him to say, but you were happy that he was finally speaking to you. “On your own?”

“Mhm,” he responded, toying with one of the model towers on the table, “I didn’t alert my mother I was leaving. I just went and did it.”

“She must have been very pleased with your initiative,” you told him.

“And yet she still refuses to utilize my talents,” he sighed, knocking over the piece he was toying with, his voice slightly raising at the end of his sentence as his frustrations made themselves known.

You looked to the piece rolling around the table, and then to him. “I’m sure she only wants to keep you safe.”

Jacaerys threw his head back, leaning on the chair and letting out a frustrated sigh. “She needs me if she wants to win this war.”

“I agree,” you said, the words coming out before you could think them through.

Jacaerys tilted his head down just enough to see you. “You do?”

You adjusted your robe in your lap. “Of course.”

Jace stayed looking at you for what felt like forever. “What are you doing up at this hour?” he asked you.

“I could not sleep,” you admitted, and it was the truth.

“Neither could I,” he reciprocated, “I have not been sleeping much as of late.”

“If you need to speak of what troubles you, I believe myself to be a rather good listener.”

You exchanged yet another look in a moment of silence before Jacaerys sighed, asking, “Do you think me capable of ruling?”

The question caught you off guard. “What?”

“As it is now, do you think I could rule?”

You swallowed nervously. You didn’t understand why he was asking you, and you were worried that you would give him the wrong answer. You figured the truth was always best. “I think we are much too young to assume such positions, but if you continue to grow the way you have as of late, I think you will make a wonderful ruler.”

Jacaerys leaned forward and placed a hand on your knee. You flinched in surprise, and your breathing caught in the back of your throat.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Of course, Jacaerys. You know I’ll always stand behind you.”

Jacaerys looked at you through hooded eyes. The moonlight was streaking into the room, and the only sound was the flickering of the candle wicks.

You did not expect him to speak, and if he did, you expected it to be about more insecurities regarding his position as the queen’s son. What he said was the very last thing you expected, but along the lines of the very first thing you often dreamed of.

“I’m quite pleased to have you in front of me.”

You blinked, expecting yourself to snap out of this dream and see where you truly were soon, but nothing changed. He was in front of you, and this was reality. You shuddered as Jacaerys began to rub your leg with his thumb.

“I-“

Words completely escaped you.

“May I be candid with you?” he asked, his voice gentle.

“Of course,” you said, your voice shaky.

“If you don’t leave soon, I won’t be able to stop myself from fucking you.”

You inhaled a sharp gasp. You didn’t intend to make noise, but you couldn’t help yourself. Your cheeks flushed as you stared into his eyes, searching for any sense that this was a joke or a test, but to no avail.

“W-what?”

“You have to leave, or I’m going to fuck you.”

“Jace-“ your voice trailed off.

“Get up.”

You stood immediately, your chair shifting slightly backward from the urgency of the move, your body responding to his demands as if it was second nature. He followed suit, stepping toward you so that your bodies were touching as he gazed down at you, his body looming over you.

He pushed your hair behind your shoulder, his fingers grazing against the nape of your neck as they moved to the back of your head. He gripped your hair and yanked your head backward.

“I don’t think I can control myself anymore,” he nearly whispered, dipping his head into the crook of your neck.

He fought with all of his self-control not to touch you, nervous he would overstep if you didn’t consent. He simply inhaled your scent, watching you swallow in anticipation and nervousness.

“Tell me to stop,” he said.

Your lips parted, but no words came out.

“Tell me to stop, Y/N,” he repeated.

You took a deep breath, Jacaerys placing a soft kiss on the side of your neck.

“I don’t want you to stop.”

Jace lifted his head to meet your gaze. “I don’t have the self control to be nice to you right now. I’m too frustrated.”

Your confidence grew as he spoke. The assurance that he wanted you too made you realize that this was now or never, and you were way too horny to get in your own way.

“So don’t be nice to me.”

Jacaerys yanked your hair backward even more, exposing more of your neck to him. He took a deep breath, connecting his lips to your neck again. He sucked the spot he landed on, his unoccupied hand pulling your waist against his hips.

He then bit down on the skin of your neck, pulling lightly with his teeth. You whined at the feeling, and you could suddenly feel his clothed cock throb against your thigh.

Jace’s hands traveled down your body until they reached the back of your thighs. He pushed and prompted you to jump, your legs wrapping around his waist. You instinctively placed your arms around his neck for balance.

He spun you around, dropping you gently onto the table.

“Kiss me,” he instructed.

Your fingers tangled in the hair on the back of his neck as you looked at him. This was all you’d been waiting for.

You pulled him closer to you, connecting your lips in a desperate kiss. His lips moved in sync with yours, his hands grabbing at your waist. He pulled you closer to the edge of the table, so that his hips could rub against yours. He grinded against you as the kiss heated up, your mutual eagerness coming to light.

You tested the waters, catching his bottom lip between your teeth and tugging slightly, disconnecting the kiss as you watched his face to garner his reaction.

He growled and pressed his lips to yours again, kissing you even harder as he vigorously untied your robe, bunching up the bottom of your nightdress and pushing it up your thighs.

His lips trailed down your jawline to your neck, sucking the slightly bruised spot from before as he pulled your small clothes down your legs enough to allow him access to your core. He immediately began to rub you, running a finger between your folds and circling around your bud.

You threw your head back, which only made Jacaerys suck harder on your neck.

He pulled away, leaning over you and using an arm to swipe away everything on the table directly behind you.

“Lay down,” he demanded.

You shifted your body until you were laying on the council table, your legs dangling off the edge as your current location dawned on you.

“Jace, what if someone walks in?” you asked, trying much too hard to sound coherent.

“Stay quiet and they won’t,” he replied, nearly a threat, untying his breeches and grabbing the seam of his small clothes, pulling both down to free himself.

“But-“

“Sh,” he said, kneeling down on the floor in front of you.

You were staring at the ceiling, completely at Jace’s mercy, and you loved it. You couldn’t see what he was doing, you could only feel him prop your legs up onto his shoulders.

Without warning, he licked from your hole to your bud, collecting the wetness as he pressed his mouth onto you, licking and sucking at your cunt. Your back arched off of the table, a low whine leaving your lips.

You peered down at him, and he was already looking up at you. One of his arms was shaking slightly, disappearing underneath the table, while his other arm held onto your hips. He was touching himself.

Even though it was happening right in front you, just the thought of Jace touching himself as he watched you react to him tasting you was too much for you. He looked so fucking pretty between your legs, his nose buried in your cunt, and his hair soft against your inner thighs.

Your hand moved down to hold onto the back of his head, lightly pulling at his hair to keep his tongue in a steady rhythm. It made Jacaerys moan into your core, and the feeling sent a shiver up your spine, causing your hole to convulse around nothing.

You continued to release soft, high-pitched moans as his tongue moved faster and faster. Your back arched again, and Jacaerys pressed his forearm into your lower stomach, forcing you to stay still against the table, but the stimulation was too overwhelming.

“Jace, I can’t-“ you tried to bargain, but it only made him stop. He stood up and towered over you.

“Can’t what, hm?” he taunted you.

He had you wrapped around his finger. You swallowed in anticipation, and Jacaerys watched the way your throat tensed from the nervousness.

He couldn’t help himself. He brought a hand up to your throat, running his pointer finger along the center before grabbing it, holding slight pressure on either side.

He gazed down at you in amusement, his cock throbbing against his stomach at the sight of you, laying down ready for him, with his hand around your throat.

Jace leaned down as far as he could toward your ear. “You gonna be good?” he whispered.

You nodded your head up and down, but that’s not what he wanted.

He squeezed your throat even tighter, your breathing now slightly obstructed. “It would be rude not to answer your future king when he asks you a question.”

You nearly gasped, “I’ll be good,” the words strained and nearly a whisper from the pressure on your throat.

Jacaerys stayed close to you, holding your neck down against the table as he lined himself up with your entrance, watching your face contort as he slowly pushed into you. Your head tried to turn away from his gaze, but you couldn’t move.

Watching you struggle, unable to do much due to his hand around your throat, amused Jacaerys. He peppered kisses along your jawline as he began to move in and out, not giving you much time to adjust to his size.

You whimpered nonstop as he fucked you, only keeping a tame pace for a few thrusts before he began to ruthlessly snap his hips. You cried out when he picked up the pace.

“I warned you I wouldn’t be nice,” he said.

You tried to respond, but the pressure against your vocal chords had you coughing instead. Your walls squeezed Jace’s cock, any reminder of his hand around your throat instantly heightening your arousal.

“Aweh,” Jace cooed, “you like it when I choke you, hm?”

“Y-yes,” you struggled out, using all your power to speak the word.

Jacaerys growled, standing tall, but never removing his hand from your throat. His unoccupied hand gripped your waist, keeping you close to him as he slammed into you.

He let his pent up anger take over his actions, watching you writhe and grab at nothing as he fucked you and, subsequently, knocking anything and everything off the table.

You knocked over one of the candles closest to you, and the wax ran for a moment, the hot liquid hitting your upper arm. You gasped at the sudden sting of pain, and Jacaerys noticed it wasn’t just a normal moan.

He scanned your body and caught the wax hitting you.

“Did that hurt?” he asked.

You wrapped your hand around his wrist, hoping he would let up on your throat and allow you to speak easier, but he wasn’t budging. “Only a little.”

Jacaerys removed his hand from your throat and watched as you gasped for air, coughing for a moment before you finally caught your breath.

He lifted one of the still-lit candles over your breasts, slowly tilting it further and further to the side until wax dripped directly onto the flesh of your breasts. You hissed at the pain, but it cooled the moment a drop hit your skin. He moved the candle back and forth, covering your cleavage in the wax.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, placing the candle back down and wiping away the cooled wax with his finger. There were red marks all along your upper breasts from the heat.

“Christ, Y/N,” he moaned. His cock was still inside of you.

You became self conscious, thinking you did something wrong. “I’m sorry,” you said, hoping he would apply it to whatever you did wrong.

“For what?”

“I don’t know.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he assured you, running his hand over your breasts, tracing your collarbone, and gripping your throat again, “except for plaguing every single dream I’ve had for weeks.”

He was dreaming of you?

He started to move again, immediately resuming his brutal pace. His hips knocked against yours with every thrust, and the tip of his cock hit the sweet spot inside of you.

“Jace- I-“

He could feel you beginning to squeeze him, your breathing quickening and your moans falling freely.

“Come for me, Y/N. You’re mine.”

You’re mine. That was all it took.

Your body jolted with release, cries of his name attempting to escape your throat but getting caught by the pressure from Jacaerys’s hand, which was now pressing even harder as you came, enhancing the pleasure of your climax.

“Fuck,” he cursed, feeling you squeeze him and further lubricate his cock, “you feel so fucking good.”

You were overstimulated, your body attempting to come down from one high while simultaneously chasing another as Jace continued to piston his cock in and out of you.

As dominant as he was being, you felt like you should do something to help him come, so you swallowed your pride and embarrassment and whispered in his ear, “Come in me, Jace, I wanna feel it inside of me.”

Jacaerys dropped his head into the crook of your neck, his eyes blown out with lust. He groaned at your words.

“Please, Your Grace.”

No one had ever called Jacaerys such a high-ranking title before. It was destined to be his, as he was the heir to the true queen, but it had never been spoken out loud. It added to his dominance, reminding him that he was in control over you.

He came on the spot.

His hips snapped harshly against yours a final few times as he spilled his seed deep within you. Your legs were shaking as he pressed his forehead to yours, catching his breath as he pulled out of you.

He stayed bent over for a while, enjoying being close to you.

“You alright?” he checked, disconnecting his hand from your neck.

“Mhm,” you hummed in response.

“You can breathe alright?” he continued.

“I can breathe just fine,” you assured him.

Jacaerys sighed and smiled at you. “Then I guess I didn’t do a good enough job.”

You blushed at his words, which only made his smile widen further. You covered your face with your hands, but Jacaerys grabbed your wrists, moving them away and kissing your knuckles.

He stood and clothed himself, holding out a hand for you to take as you jumped off of the table. You nearly collapsed, but Jacaerys wrapped an arm around your waist.

“What are you doing to me?” he asked genuinely.

“I could ask you the same question,” you replied, leaning upward to place a kiss on his cheek.

[pearl-nouveau]

A Woman's Purpose - Cregan Stark x Reader [chapter one]

summary: Your mother, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, has always prepared you to marry and you have always resisted, terrified that you will only ever be seen as a wife. But your heart is torn when love catches you by surprise.

contains: mentions of self-harm, aged-up characters (Jace is ~19 idk)

a/n: wow i have not posted on this blog in YEARS but i lurk in tumblr reader insert oneshots like it's my part-time job, and i wrote this on AO3 so i decided to post here and hopefully get some love. i really love posting my writing even if it is not perfect, it's just a passion. let me know if i should post the second chapter and my asks are always open! xx - pearl🦪

Beauty is power, my mother used to tell me, stroking my silver hair as if it were made of golden thread. She loved my hair. Use your beauty to set yourself free. I had no idea if she meant for her words to bring some kind of comfort to me - they did not. 

Sometimes, I hated her for bringing me into the world altogether. While Jace and Luke envied my resemblance to our mother, I detested sharing her light hair and lilac eyes. It seemed to me a symbol of my imprisonment - it became clear to me, hearing all this talk of my beauty and nothing else, that I was never to be loved or seen for anything else.

In my youth, the abstract concept of my fertility and status made me a formidable form of currency within the royal family. Jacaerys, older by one year, made his way as heir by training in combat and dragonriding and studying the history of Westeros and Old Valeria - I, however, was confined to studying the family trees of the realm's powerful houses, to perform the perfect Velaryon princess and eventually be bred like a cow.

I hated my life. 

Many attempts were made to rebel against my predetermined future. At ten and two I sliced all the hair from my head, leaving a shaggy, uneven mess of shimmering half-bald patches that took years to grow back. I had never seen my mother so angry until at ten and four I began slicing patterns into my arms and legs to scar the perfect pale skin everyone complimented me on. Soon she required a chaperone with me at all times, which only made me more furious, and I began picking fights with my cuntish uncles and coming back from dragon rides inexplicably soaking or covered in soot. I waited for my mother to attempt to put together the puzzle I had laid out in front of her; to figure me out and decide that her daughter - the strong-willed, intelligent, adventurous one - matters more than the empty shell of a married woman that I will surely become. 

At the very least, my mother allowed me the power to turn away whomever I wished. It seemed she hoped I would find someone who struck my fancy. But as time passed and my antics worsened, her grip on me tightened, and I began to fear the wost: an impending betrothal. 

She frequently asked me to rack my brain and think of any previous men she had introduced me to who I may want to explore further. But I was stubborn. I maintained that no one had caught my eye, and I insisted that I would never marry. Whenever I said such things, my mother would frown at me in a way that hurt my heart. She was my greatest antagonist, but I loved her, and I knew that it saddened her to put me through such pain. 

Even if there was one man who never left an impression on me, whose memory kept me awake in the darkness of night, I would never tell my mother. It was too humiliating after so many years of fighting marriage to be seduced by love.

Every so often I allowed myself to think about him before I went to sleep, to be swept up in the beautiful dream of someone's arms around me. I could imagine him saying to me, I choose you. That was what I always dreamt of hearing. I choose you, as you are. Just you. 

Jacaerys tried to sympathize with me but he would never truly understand. He did allow me to partake in his own pastimes to grant me a change of scenery from the walls of King's Landing. 

"It infuriates me that she herself is allowed to break barriers as heir to the Iron Throne and I must remain shackled to tradition," I complained to Jace as we sparred in a remote corner of the keep. "She gets to be immortalized as the first of her name while subjecting me to a loveless marriage."

"She was in an arranged marriage with our father." Jace pointed out, sending a particularly hard offensive move my way. I easily thwarted it. 

"Well..." I trailed off. There was nothing to say, not in words, about our parents, or our parentage. It was an unspoken issue, even between Jacaerys and I who were nearly as close as twins. We supposed it would always be shrouded in mystery. We were prepared to always wonder. It seemed unthinkable to ask our mother any questions, nor our father, nor... 

Strong boys, they said. 

Perhaps Jace and I wouldn't speak of it because our difference in hair color had always been a sore subject. I was broken out of my thoughts by another offensive move, this one catching me by surprise. I stumbled back but recovered, moving around the side of my brother as he laughed at me in the way only an older brother would. 

"I'll get you back for that," I snapped at him, but grinned. He smiled back, shrugging cockily. Bring it on, his eyes told me. 

We sparred a bit more until our breaths were heavy in our throats and our swings became more jests than challenges. Eventually, he tossed his sword on the ground and fell upon a sack of grain. I sat next to him and for a moment we were not prince nor princess. We were just two siblings. I sighed, knowing it wouldn't last for long. 

Jace seemed to decide to bank on the moment as well because he looked to me and spoke. "Was there really never anyone who caught your eye? Not in all those years of meeting suitors?" He thought for a moment. "There were some good ones."

"Some good ones?" I scoffed. "Who, pray tell?" 

After a few moments of consideration, he began to chuckle and I rolled my eyes. The chuckle became a cackle and at this joke, I did not laugh along. We both knew that most of the options I had been presented with were vapid, shortsighted, insecure children, as were most men.

I was about to hit him to shut him up when he stopped suddenly and his face brightened with realization. 

"I know a good one," Jace said, "Cregan Stark."

A flush crossed my face at the name.

Usually, I only allowed that name to cross my mind in the darkness of night, but Jace had disrupted that routine. "What about him?" I tried to ask innocently. This time my brother was the one to roll his eyes at me. 

"Don't play the fool, sister," he teased, "when he came to visit those years ago everyone could see that you both took a liking to each other. Even you couldn't fight him." He nudged me playfully with his elbow. "He fights like a Northerner, and he wanted to fight for you."

"Oh, hush."

"Why did you ever turn him away anyways?"

His question silenced me. It was a painful memory. Cregan had come to treat with my grandsire and pledge his support as Warden of the North, and in those two moons he stayed at King's Landing we came to know each other well. Perhaps the reason why I had opened myself to getting to know him was because he had not come for the intention of courting me. In fact, I found him wonderfully ignorant about the social politics of the royal family, and he did not know of my existence upon his arrival. 

The day we met, I was in the Godswood with a book and a porcelain cup of candied almonds. A midnight blue veil covered my thigh-length silver hair. I hated my hair, and I hated that my mother would not let me cut it. I refused to have it braided and let it fall unbrushed and wild down my back.

He had come into the courtyard without noticing me tangled in the roots of the tree. He came closer to examine the trunk thoughtfully, allowing me a glimpse of his face through the branches. I had heard of his arrival and listened from behind closed doors at their meeting, intrigued by his deep voice and foreign accent. I listened intently as he spoke a prayer in a hushed tone. All of a sudden, his gaze shifted to meet mine between the leaves as if he had known I was there the whole time. 

"Apologies, my lady," he bowed his head slightly. "I did not know the Godswood was occupied."

"There is room enough for two," I said shyly. I was not accustomed to being pleasant towards men. I was known for being a beautiful devil, a menace with a sour tongue. It made me self-conscious to think that I was changing my behavior for a man. But I was merely matching his politeness; and he had no reason to falsify his kindness, since he had no idea who I was. 

Luckily for me, I had no reason to overthink my words because he went silent for a long while, lost in a wordless prayer. After a quarter of an hour had passed, he came closer to me, and gestured to the root beside me. 

"Do you mind if I sit?" He had asked.

I shook my head and he moved his thick cloak to drop down beside me. 

"Pardon my intrusion, my lady, I find myself feeling lonely when I come to the South. The Godswood calms me."

"I understand, Lord Stark."

His eyebrow quirked. "You know who I am?"

"I'm afraid I do." I smiled. I loved having the upper hand. I decided I wouldn't tell him who I was. 

"What is your role here in the castle, my lady?" 

"To please lords like you." I jested. Cregan leaned back slightly, taken aback. I quickly realized the suggestive wording of my joke. "Not like that," I quickly corrected, "I was just... I mean-"

"I know who you are, princess." He chuckled at me. I was glad to be rescued from the embarrassment of my failed joke. I gazed at him questioningly. He leaned forward and gently removed the veil from my head. "Unfortunately your appearance does not allow you anonymity." 

I blushed. "What have you heard about me?" 

"Nothing, I admit, until your grandsire told me about you today. He told me of your age, not many years my junior, and I supposed-"

"- That I might make a fine breeder for you?" I snapped. There went the illusion of politeness. This was where they usually ran, when I became a beast instead of a beauty. A piece of work not worth the effort. 

Instead, Cregan merely chuckled. "Actually, I sought a companion. A friend. Being here is lonely for me, and I thought you might show me what life in King's Landing is like. If I am to swear fealty to your family, I seek to know your customs. Your mother has told me that you are the most well-acquainted with the keep of her children." 

You smiled. Had your mother truly said that? It was true, since you spent so much time darting around the palace avoiding her orders. 

"Would you mind giving me a tour?" He asked. His tone was so gentle, so uncomplicated. It was like no man had ever spoken to me before. With respect, as if he were speaking to a friend. It was refreshing.

For the next few weeks, Cregan and I formed a friendship based on mutual respect. He informed me of Northern politics and asked for my opinions on complicated political matters through a Southern perspective. I introduced him to my dragon, Vermithor. Afternoons were spent in the Godswood picnicking for the purpose of introducing him to local cuisine, and evenings were spent in the library discussing literature. The relationship felt as easy as breathing to me, and I could tell he felt the same. After close to two moons, it had begun to frighten me how much I longed for his presence when we separated at the end of the day. 

There had always been a tangible tension between us that toed the line between friendship and romance. Lingering gazes, intentional touches, and meaningful words kept me up at night. He opened up to me about the unique grief of losing his wife in childbirth and having to leave his infant son at home so soon afterward. I showed him the scars littered across my body, and explained to him how I hated my beauty.

He had taken my head in his hands and looked through my soul with those gray eyes. 

"Your beauty... It is just a fraction of you. What is truly incredible is your kind heart, your wit, your intelligence, your soul..."

I had been unable in that moment to keep myself from kissing him, so I let my mind empty and I surged forward to connect our lips. He responded with fervor, bringing me close, the pads of his thumbs barely grazing the peach fuzz on my cheek. I could not even bring myself to feel ashamed about grabbing his tunic underneath his cloak, my fingers unknowing but desperate. He had taken my hands and pulled back, only to kiss my nose, then brow, then the corners of each eyes, and then my knuckles. 

Suddenly I came too. I saw in front of me the path that had been laid for me - a wife, be it to a good man or a bad one. I was still determined not to let that happen. 

As I often did, I had fled. I had avoided him until he went back to Winterfell. Two moons later, a raven came from him. I didn't dare open it, too afraid to face my actions. Even if I felt that I knew what the contents were, Cregan was not like other men I knew - thus I had always wondered what the letter said. I wondered if it was true that he truly cared for me and saw who I was inside. The thought made me realize that even I myself did not know what path may be laid in front of me. My feelings confused me, and I decided to shut the Lord of Winterfell out of my mind forever.

Except on some dark nights. 

And except for now, when Jacaerys prods my arm and awaits the answer to his question. I realized I must have been silent for a long time as his voice began to register in my head. 

"Lost in thought?" 

"Ha-ha," I shoved him back. "Sort of." 

Jace's face became serious. "I was only jesting, but perhaps I shouldn't have brought it up. I know you truly did care for him."

"How could you tell?" I asked, genuine curiosity lacing my tone. It was past the point where it was worth feeling awkward about the truth of my feelings. I was only human, after all. 

"He was kind to everybody, but especially to you." Jace pursed his lips in thought. "Although at the same time, he does not treat you like you're soft. It was like he loved hearing you speak. Like your word was God."

I smiled. 

Jace nudged me. "And... he looked at you like you hung the damn sun in the sky."

My heart skipped a beat hearing that. I knew it was true, but I was used to people looking at me in awe. As if I were a ball of light floating in front of them, ethereal, untouchable. Cregan was not afraid to see through me, to touch me. He made me feel held.

Emotion overcame me in that moment. I quickly scrambled up from the bag of grain Jace and I were lounging on, grasping my sword and tossing my hair over my shoulder. 

"Well, it's too late now," I quickly said, "He's in Winterfell and it does not matter if he cares for me or not, I do not want the life of a housewife."

Jace stood. "Who says that getting married means you'll become a housewife? You'll be a lady, you could do whatever you please." 

"It isn't just the marriage, it's the principle of it!" I cried, moving away from him towards the main training yard. "As soon as I take those vows, it means my purpose is only to bear children." As we entered the larger courtyard and grew closer to other people, he grasped my arm and spoke to me in a lowered voice. 

"I know you think I do not understand, but I am soon to be betrothed as well, likely to someone I will never love."

"Well, at the end of the line, you have a throne." I spit at him, spinning on my heel and leaving him staring helplessly after me. 

[anothertimdrakestan]

Batboys Toxic Traits Headcanons

because no one is perfect, i wanted to get a little dirty with it and imagine what the boys are like when they're a little... too obsessed with you.

tw for romanticizing possessive, obsessive, jealous, aggressive actions haha xoxo

Jason Todd

- scary dog privileges wherever you go with jace, but he is ALL bite with one and only one warning bark.

- when a hand that isn't his brushes your thigh in a club, fingers get broken. when a cat caller thinks his compliment just has to be said to you, he most likely won't be able to speak again for weeks. And god forbid any villain try to use you as bait for jason, they've all learned if they value their life to never touch you. He's all for justice not vengeance until anyone tries to mess with you, then those words always get mixed up in his head.

- sometimes you cant even complain about people, they end up getting randomly harassed by a certain someone until they just move town

- jason is adamant as long as he's alive there won't be a problem of yours he can't solve with a little violence

- your biggest problem is that he struggles to let you have guy friends, obviously the ones he knows especially fellow heroes are more than fine, but he's been known to burst blood vessels when he sees you close and person with men he's never met

- he's proud of it too: "let another man try and touch y/n, it's been a slow night for me." or "i just don't get why you need him as a friend when you have me, myself, and i"

Tim Drake

- tim gets... obsessive.

- he tends to fall hard but with you he brought the house down with him

- before you were officially his he had hacked every security camera in the city to have eyes on you at any given moment

- both for your safety and his own maniacal flirting strategy: you admire shoes but frown at the price tag? tim's buying you the matching bag to go with the shoes he bought the second you looked at them.

- before you knew how insanely in love with you he was, you truly thought he was a mind reader

- well he kind of was, seeing as he scrolled through your search history every night to know which talking points to bring up with you

- once you finally fell for him and set some stronger boundaries he still occasionally found himself double checking your location when you weren't by his side, or lazily purchasing every item on your pinterest boards, he just can't help but dote on you

Damian Wayne

- damian doesn't really get close to people, but as always you were his exception

- however, this means his list of people to hang out with is extremely short, and he saw no problem in wanting to be around you wherever you went whenever he could

- like a kind of tall, dark, and brooding puppy, he quietly followed you everywhere, and when you strictly told him he couldn't follow along, you always noticed a perched shadow just a few building away

- eventually you got used to rolling over to damian coolly watching you sleep or patiently waiting to pick you up from your classes/job, happy just to walk you to your car

- just like jason, damian had a brutal and heartless style of problem-solving when it came to anyone giving you trouble

- too often you found yourself standing in between his rage a massive mistake whether it was nearly assaulting a friend of yours who tried to ask you out or threatening to buy out your entire workplace when you didn't get the promotion you wanted

- forever cooling his rage was worth having his adoration though, and you were happy to have your overbearing shadow follow you throughout your days

Dick Grayson

- for such a bubbly leader, dick often struggled with communication

- always used to bearing his problems alone youd spent too many nights tracking down your own boyfriend only to beg him to tell you what's wrong

- he never understood that you didn't always want to solve his problems, but hold his sadness or hurt with him

- it was the worst when he was upset with you, whether it was jealously or insecurity that crept into his mind

- he'd take off in a rush hoping you wouldn't notice but you always did, either hunting him down or simply waiting with open arms for him to come home

- it would take years to teach your traveling-circus-raised boyfriend that you weren't going anywhere, ever.

- but, this made for many heartfelt nights where he held you and promised you the world, as if you'd opened him up in a way no one else could, pulling forward the most magical and loving side of your sweet boy

[myladysapphire]

Two Halves of a whole

Aemond had always understood you in ways others could not, your bond so deep nothing could severe it. A bond so deep that they would do anything to save the other, even if it meant being trapped with the enemy.

based of this request

word count: 6,208

cw: MDI+, 18+, Smut, Angst, fluff, love conffessions, arranged marraige, cheating. (im so sorry Cregan i love you i swear), not proofread!

Aemond Targaryen x twinsister!reader (or Creaganswife!reader)

dividers by @zaldritzosrose

authors note: so sorry i haven’t updated in two weeks! ive been in such a writting slump but here is finally some work! <3

Aemond had always understood you in ways now one else had.

Born together, you had never seen the day apart. Your lessons spent together, your rooms shared until you where three and ten.

And even then that did not stop you form spending every moment together.

You were so similar, not only where you twins but it was almost as If you where the same person, two halves of a whole.

You were kind, where he was cruel.

Your were beautiful where he seemed himself ugly, no matter the words you spoke to call him otherwise.

Where he was bold, you where shy.

And where you thrived, he drowned.

But something shifted the day Aemond claimed Vaghar.

You had both been dragon less, teased for it and faced the constant bullying of your older brother and nephews.

you had spent days talking and studying dragons, and where Aemond started to loose hope, and yet you pushed him to believe he could claim a dragon.

And he did, the biggest and most fearsome dragon in the world.

And you were left behind in the process.

That night, no one told you of what had transpired until you were dragged from your bed and greeted with the bleeding face of your twin brother.

Your house divided, and your brother a changed man.

Form that day he became cruel and cunning, hellbent on being the best swordsman. the best dragon rider. Skilled and wise.

And though you where there for it all, helping him and watching. It was all from the sidelines. As if you only mattered when he was involved.

that’s what your family thought anyway.

Until you became of marital age, and your father decided a alliance with the north was necessary.

You had always thought you would marry Aemond, and yet here you where on your way to winterfell about to marry a stranger you had never met.

Your nephew Jace had talked of him often, recounting his days spent in Winterfell. And though he  sounded honourable and kind, you feared what it would be like to be apart fork Aemond, the man who was truly the other half of you.

even after years of drifting apart he was still everything to you.                                                                                                

“are you excited, aunt?” Jace asked, he and the rest of your family where all accompany your north, using the journey as a tour of Westeros.

“As one can be to be marrying a stranger I suppose” you mused, looking out of the window.

Whilst your siblings all rode their dragons around Westeros, you were forced to ride with your nephews and cousins, with dragons too small to withstand the long journeys.

“Cregan stark is a good man, I’m sure you with have a good marriage” Baela spoke, looking up from her book.

You scoffed, “so everyone has met him but me?” you mumbled to yourself, shifting uncomfortably.

“I always thought you would marry Aemond” Rhanea spoke up, she and you had strike a surprising friendship, despite her distaste for Aemond. Your common lack and want for a dragon bonding you both.

“As did I” you spoke longingly, looking up and seeing the shape of Vaghar in the distance.  

The rest of the journey was spent with minimal words spoken, and your eyes never leaving Vaghars form.

Ever since they announced your betrothal Aemond had been distant, still ever present as he was, but distant.

The day he had found out he had stormed out of his rooms and ignored you for the remainder of the day.

And though the day after he had carried out your old routine, it seemed different, strained.

Though Aemond was never a talker, he was never silent around you. If he didn’t respond with words, he responded with actions. Whether it be brushing a piece of hair behind your ear, caressing your hand, or bringing you flowers.

But since then, the casual touches or small gifts of flowers or your favourite snack or bringing you a book he thought you’d enjoy, stopped.

Conversation was strained, always ending on an awkward note, and when you had wished to confront him on it you had found he had gone to the silk of streets with Aegon.

You felt hurt, betrayed almost and yet it was you who was marrying another, leaving him behind, even if you had no choice in the fact.

And the tour had been even worse.

Your days spent in a carriage alongside people you hardly knew, with Jace and Luke the very boys who had once teased your mercilessly. The very people who had caused Aemond so much pain and even harsher words in the past years.

And yet you were forced to put on a pretty smile and put up with their chatter. Though had no quells with Rhaena, finding many conversation flows easy with her.

You felt all alone, stranded in a marriage yet to happen and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

The journey around Westeros was as long as it weas boring, full of lords trying their hardest to appease you father, spoiling you all with gifts and pretty words.

You were grateful once you started to visit the northern houses, they were honest, less kind, less welcoming and less inclined to spoil you with meaningless gifts.

It took six months, six months of travelling of Aemond being distant and eventually ignoring you altogether before you reached Winterfell. And met Cregan stark.

And though you could tell he was a good man and that there was no way to deny he wasn’t handsome, he wasn’t Aemond.

You got along well, though every smile or laugh was met with Aemond’s glare. His disapproving stare. His harsh words and even harsher steps as he followed you both through the halls.

He hadn’t said a word to you, but made sure you new his anger.

Even as he watched you walk down the aisle in the godswood and take Cregan as your lord husband.

After that day you felt perpetually lost, as if you had lost the other part of you, that you were never whole.

Perhaps it was because Aemond had left without so much as a goodbye, or that now there was no chance of you and Aemond getting what you both wanted.

Two years passed, two years in the north as Cregan’s wife, a babe born and not a single word or letter from Aemond.

You felt stranded in the north, with no dragon nor any dragon rider offering you an escape. Any letters took weeks to arrive, any news arriving long after the fact.

You heard little from anyone frankly, that’s why it was such a surprise to see your nephew Jace once more.

“Jace?” you questioned, as you walked into the great hall. He sat beside Cregan, clearly having spent the night.

You were shocked, no one had told you of his arrival.

“Aunt” he greeted in turn, his voice kind as he greeted you.

“What are you doing here?” you said, as you approached where they sat.

He looked over to Cregan, shocked you didn’t know he was here. “Your father…Viserys is dead”

“oh” you said, not feeling any emotion in particular. He had never been a father too you, always distant, treating you more like a cousin child, than his own. “did he- was it peaceful?”

“I don’t know” he said, as you finally took your seat beside him, “we had left Kings Landing before-“

“Is that why your here? My fathers death?”

Jace looked over to Cregan an awkwardly, “Aegon usurped my mother, I have been sent to remind the north of their oath.”

Aegon being king wasn’t a surprise, your mother and grandsire had been plotting for years to crown him since he was born. If anything, you were shocked that Jace seemed surprised by the betrayal, as if the court hadn’t been treating Aegon as heir for years.

“And as I told the prince, the north remembers” Cregan said looking over to you, his tone serious. “we pledge our loyalty to the queen”

“and if war comes with you plunge your sword into my brothers back, husband?”

“if it comes it it, aye”

You looked down and remained quite through the remainder of Jace’s stay, keeping to yourself, as you always did.

The harsh realisation that your husband would so easily kill your brothers hurt, even if they were traitors and usurpers.

You had never felt whole since Aemond left and you knew a part of you chipped away the longer he was gone, the longer he punished you with his silence.

And then news came, Luke was dead at the hands of Aemond. And you felt apart of you break.

The realisation that Aemond would not survive this war without erasing the entirety of Rhaenrya’s line.

You felt more stuck than ever.

Stuck with a husband plotting a war were the allegiance was split.

You had married Cregan in hope of uniting the north to the greens. But of course the loyal house stark would never wavier form their oath, even if it meant a wife forced to watch as her kin was murdered.

You hated this war, and it had yet to start.

You had been left in charge of Winterfell in your husbands absence, and you felt even more lonely without him. The one person who you had felt some stability from.

Your dreams was filled with blood and death, fear of what was to come. And yet another dream chased you. Flashes of blue flames, ice eyes and cold scales. A song sung through your mind, it had no words or melody, it was as if it were a secret language only your dreams could understand.

A storm raged on, leaving you locked inside and a feeling a dread filling your bones.

You couldn’t escape the nagging feeling, the feeling like something was very wrong.

You could scarcely see outside the window, let alone leave the keep. The snow thick and relentless, and yet you could make out a figure ever so slightly.

A dragon.

Large and far away, your mind hoped it was Aemond, though he would be a fool to travel north, especially in this storm.

And yet it seemed to pale, not nearly as monstrous or large.

It called to you, your eyes following if, unable to tear themselves away from the dragon.

Had it not been the call of your name from your maid, Lyra, you were sure you would have chased after it, its song luring you to were ever its layer sat.

“my lady” she started, her demeanour nervous

“what is it?” you questioned, finally pulling your eyes away from the creature.

“you have a visitor”

“who-“ your words were cut off as your twin strolled in, his yes firm, a hand gripping his sword “Aemond”  you breathed, your hand gripping at your chest.

“sister” he greeted.

You sent a look to lyra, sending her running, though she seemed relived at the dismal.

“my husband is not here”

“good”

“he pledged for Rhaenrya”

His gaze hardened, a smile gracing his lips “you betray your own kin”

You scoffed “me betray? You are the one who has not spoken a word to me since the day i was married, no letter no word! Even Aegon wrote me and yet you my own twin, the very man i have loved and been with since the day we were born, betrays me without a word all because I am shipped of in a marriage you very well knew I did not want! If anyone has betrayed the other it is you”

His gaze fell, his smirk falling, “you choose him-“

“by the gods! I had no say”

His eyes dropped their firm, “no…mother said you had chosen him and rejected my bid” “your bid? You bid for my hand?” you scoffed once more, “do you think that if I knew I had a choice I would have come crying, begging for your help?”

He seemed you look at you, look at you for the first time in years, his yes boring into you in a way you did not realise you missed.

Aemond had always been selifish and cruel, a man who only believed his opinion to be the truth and yet with you he was patient and kind, and though you saw a glimpse of the man others did see, you knew he was still the Aemond you had long knew.

Though the fact remained, as it stood you were on opposing sides of this war, and with no dragon and your son the heir to house stark, you were powerless to change sides.

But as he looked at you, and as you heard to coo of your son as he sat in his crib your mind went back to the day your life changed and Aemond drifted apart.

You knew the day was coming, word had been circling around court, suitors from throughout the realm had come to bid for your hand.

Though you in truth you only wanted one man, your twin Aemond.

It wasn’t wrong for you to assume that you and he would marry, it was within the custom of your house, you had always been close and he had practically been courting you for years.

With gifts an-d days spent walking the gardens, with soft words and caresses.

Though he never made his intentions clear, you were sure he was of the same mind of you.

And yet days spent whining about the men hellbent on following you, with cheesy words of love and gifts you already had too may off. It was all impersonable and endlessly repetitive. And Aemond never uttered a word. Simply nodding his head in what you hoped was silent contempt.

and yet your mother had summoned you to her chambers, a sombre expression on her face.

“daughter” she greeted, a soft smile as she reached for your hand.

The feeling of dread encompassed you, your face pale and stricken as she ushered you to sit.

“an offer has been made, one your father could not refuse” she started, her hand caressing yours, “one with house stark…lord Cregan Stark has made a bid and your father has accepted.”

You swallowed, your head dropping.

“I know your heart bid for another…but this is the way of the realm, and lord Cregan is a good man, your- Rhaenrya’s son knows him well.” She spoke the last part hesitantly.

“when?”

“we leave in a moons turn”

You nodded your head, standing quickly you nodded your head as your turn to leave, the tears already threatening to fall from your eyes.

You had ran to Aemond’s rooms, his chambers adjacent to yours.

Your eyes were filled with tears, your face red and your breaths short.

He breathed your name, coming up to hold your face in his hands.

“I am to be married” you breathed through shallow breaths.

Aemond held his breath.

“mother…mother has said I shall marry…Lord Cregan Stark” you stuttered out, and Aemond back away from you, his hand dropping as if your face was fire.

“what?” he muttered harshly, “out of all your…suitors, him?”

“I had little say…I alw-“  you cut yourself of as you saw the look on Aemond’s face.

With you Aemond had always had patience, been kind where he was usually curel, his face never harsh or firm but now…now he seemed to hold the anger of the sun as he looked at you, as if he had been betrayed, as if he was the one being made to marry a man thousands of leagues away, a man you had never met.

“please Aemond” you begged, trying to move towards him once more.

You were unsure of what you were begging for.

Whether it was to help you get out of this betrothal or to marry him instead, but Aemond scoffed and sent you a glare that would send anyone else running.

“what do you want? Hmm?” he began, stalking over to you, “to help you out of it? Or what claim a dragon so that you might escape?” he said, his tone mocking.

“what is with you!” you spoke through tears, “why are you being so cruel?”

“cruel?” he scoffed once more, “you are the one being cruel!”

“how?! I had no choice!”

“you had every choice” he seethed, “and yet you continuously turn a blind eye to the right choice!”

“what choice? you think I had any choice in this?” you scoffed, “gods! Heleana had no say, even Rhaenyra had little say in her first husband and yet you think I got to choose?” tears were falling from your eyes but for an entirely different reason, you felt betrayed, the one person you knew or had thought you could trust with all your heart had betrayed you. Had made you lose all trust, and made you feel alone.

A feeling that had followed you for moons, even the following years that were to come. As he grew more and more distant, no more gifts or walks, days spent in each other’s company and now they were spent listening to your nephew trying to sell your future husband. Your mother and planning your wedding.

You felt like you had lost Aemond In his entirety and yet here he stood before you, claiming you a traitor.

“why are you here?” you breathed, trying to forget the words he had said.

“for you” he spoke, straightening his stance as you walked towards your sons crib.

“for me? What of Rickon? Hmm?” you said, bouncing your six month of son in your arms. “he is the heir to Winterfell and his father fights for your enemies, you expect me to leave with you? To abandon my home?”

“your home?” he huffed, “last we spoke, you hated it here.”

“last we spoke was two years ago, opinions change especially in years apart”

“so what? You will stay in here in the cold, damp, baren land that is the north?”

“in favour of what?” you questioned genuinely, leaving the north would gain you nothing, instead you would lose the comforts of a husband and your son his birthright.

“you know…I always assumed we would wed” Aemond began, a small gasp left your throat, “and so you will wed me, your son will be Aegon’s heir until you and I have a son of our own”

“what…I am already married-“

“to a man I shall kill myself”

“Aemond! Gods you are mad! You speak of a life this war will never offer us!” you shook your head, “I- I cannot leave here, not for a life you cannot guarantee, especially after years of neglect over something I could not control”

“so you are a traitor”

“I pledge to no one, I care not for the throne especially if the fight is between Aegon and Rhaenyra” you spoke “I have no means to fight in this war for either side, and I do not desire to…if that is what you want…for me to leave my home for no reason other than an empty promise for a life we will never live then I must tell you to leave”

“leave?” he said bewildered, unbelieving you would send him away so quickly.

“you can stay the night or until the storm clears up, but I will here no more of this war or of your fantasy you have suddenly conjured up” A fantasy you had long desired yourself, had craved for him to desire it to. And now you were offered it, it seemed unreachable now. A war in its way, a war started by him and only one ending could grant you this fantasy, an ending to messy and deadly.

“I will go now” he spoke harshly, sending you a single glance before he took his leave.

That night the storm raged harsher, and sleep evaded you.

The storm did not stop raging once and for the first time since Driftmark you feared for your brothers life.

You stared out your window once more, trying to find the familiar shape of Vaghar, and yet you saw nothing.

Your eyes closed as you hoped, prayed that he had manged to get out of the storm.

But instead of a prayer you heard the song, the singing of that dragon once more.

Opening your eyes, you instantly found its shape, its wings flying through the sky as if the storm was nothing, its song enticing you to follow it, to find were it sat.

Grabbing your cloak and your boats you were quick to sneak from the castle, with no one questioning the steps of their lady, even less when you made a hopeful glance to where you were told Vaghar had landed. Hoping Aemond had chosen to wait out the storm.

But the typical stubborn man had left, mostly likely gotten himself stranded on some cliff.

As you left the walls of Winterfell, your sight blinded by snow, you were guided by the dragons song, a song that grew louder and louder as you went deeper into the wolfs woods.

You had been hunting here on a few occasions, never alone and always at Cregan’s side.

The trees dwarfed the sky the further you went, and yet there was a clearing amongst the trees, leaving a trail of discarded leaves and twigs, snow parted by what could only be a tail.

The trail lead to a cave, encased with snow and yet here the song stopped and the familiar smell of dragon began.

You had not know of caves in these woods, then again you had long strayed from the trail others took, and perhaps the word of a dragon had made this corner of the woods scarce.

With hesitance you entered the cave, with no sword nor light, simply will.

The cave was empty, bar what seemed to be a cliff, leading below.

Had there not been the unrelenting scent of dragon you would have turned back and yet, you climbed down, down rugged rocks only to turn and be meet with an ice cold bolt shotting from the dragons mouth.

A roar filled the room, alongside ice cold blue flame.

The dragon you had only seen from a distance lay facing you, its stare made to intimidate.

You left out a breath at the sight of her.

She was so different yet similar to the dragons you had grown up seeing.

She tilted her head, assessing you, before she nudged you.

Whether it was playfully or an attempt to get you to leave you did not now.

And yet you continued to step forward.

“lykirī” You spoke softly, walking towards the dragon hand raised, “lykirī” your hand reached forward, touching the dragon’s snout softly. She was warm and yet freezing under your palm, so different from the hot scales you were used to under the touch of your siblings dragons.

“nyke ryptan aōha vāedar” you started, softly stroking her, “īles gevie…iksā gevie”

I heard your song… it was beautiful… you are beautiful.

A soft grumbled left the dragons lips.

“iksin ziry syt nyke? aōha vāedar?” you swore she nodded her head.

Was it for me? Your song?

“gōntan ao brōzagon syt nyke?” you whispered, moving down her snout and towards her back, the place a saddle usual sat.

did you call for me?

“eman dreamt hen ao, ryptan aōha vāedar syt jēdri. se yet mirre bisa jēda īlē paktot gō ñuha pungos”

i have dreamt of you, heard your song for years...and yet all this time you were right under my nose.

The dragon shook her head softly, turning to face you as if to urge you up upon her back.

You swallowed roughly as you climbed upon her wing and then her back. she was larger than your brothers dragon Sunfyer, you would even wager larger than dreamfyer, and yet she was younger, her eyes softer and scales thinner. Her fire, or ice, however was strong, perhaps even stronger than Caraxes.

You settled upon her back, holding onto her scales, and before you could utter a word, she took flight.

“daor” you muttered, “dohaerās” you spoke, your hands gripping tightly as you urged her to serve. “Paez”

No…serve…slow

The storm still raged, you were blinded as the snow pelted your eyes, and yet your dragon seemed unfazed.

She circled the woods in what seemed to be glee.

Showing of tricks that left you praying to the gods as you gripped onto her horns for dear life.

And then you heard a roar.

An old and ancient roar.

“jikagon ūndegon” you urged.

Go see

She flew through the sky at a rapid place before the sight of Vaghar became clear, she lay stranded on the lonely hills, covered in snow and Aemond lay beside her.

“elēnās” you commanded, urging our dragon to bank.

Jumping of her back you rushed towards Aemond, his body cold and shivering.

“Aemond…gods” you whispered, “I told you to stay the night!” you near screamed, trying to urge him awake, and yet he seemed unresponsive to your words.

“Vaghar jikagon, jurnegon syt shelter” you screamed, as you made moves to drag Aemond towards your dragon.

Vaghar go, search for shelter

The old dragon seemed to rumble at your words her gaze following you as you near threw Aemond body on top of the dragon, a dragon you decided very well needed a name.

You were scared to take flight once more, with nothing but your arms to hold onto the dragon and Aemond.

“gods” you muttered, your eyes blinded once more by snow. “sagon qucik se gīda” you commanded, pulling Aemond to your chest and below the winter coat you wore, your hands gripping your dragon, as you commanded her onwards.

Be quick and calm

The flight to Winterfell seemed short, though worry racked through you as Aemond’s breaths grew shorter.

You landed rather ungracefully in the godswood, a landing that seemed to awake the whole castle as you were greeted with the entirety of your staff, your maid, Lyra rushing towards you a blanket in hand.

“my lady” she muttered rushing towards you, only to gasp at the sight of Aemond as you struggle to carry him.

“Gunther, Torren” you shouted for your guards, to help you carry Aemond, “send for the maester my brother is in need of aid.

“my lady is that your dragon?” Lyra asked, nervously as your dragon seemed to send menacing glares to your staff.

“yes” you nodded, catching your breath from your seemingly heavy brother.

“what is its name?” she asked stepping behind your form nervously.

“Stormfyer” you decided, and she herself seemed to like it as she eagerly nudged you, pushing you back ever so slightly.

That night the maester cared for Aemond, his body slowly recovering.

Though whispered moved swiftly of your brothers presence, and his lack of dragon.

A week passed before Aemond woke.

His voice scratchy and body weak, his head confused. Even more so when he saw your face.

You stood with broth and bread in your hand, a soft nervous smile on your face as you faced him.

His eyes were angry, but his face seemed to relax ever so slightly at your face.

“am I a prisoner?” he asked, as you placed the tray on his lap.

“if you talk a single word of war then yes” you joked, though the words soured soon after they were spoken.

“how did you find me?”

You smiled at his words, “there is a dragon in the north, she sang to me and I answered her call and in doing so I found you, your body beside Vaghars…. I rescued you, near a week ago”

“a dragon?” he spoke “you have dragon now?”

You nodded, “Stormfyer, I named her…she is near the size of dreamfyer I believe, though closer in age to Vermax” you spoke with a smile.

“I am…happy for you sister”

“I won’t reconsider… before you say anything”

“I know…I realised as such as I lay here dreaming”

“dreaming…of what?”

“of you” he spoke instantly, his hand gripping yours, “I meant what is said, all I have ever wanted was you by my side, as my wife and my queen” “I do not wish to be queen”

“then we shall be farmer and wife…in Essos or I shall shave my head and take the name snow and be your faithful sworn sword here in the north”

“Cregan will kill you second he sees you”

“then we leave”

“what if my son?” you argued, “he is the heir to Winterfell, it is his birthright”

“as is Aegon’s as king” Aemond snapped.

“and yet a war rages for Rhaenyra as queen, a queen the north supports and you lie as the enemy within.”

“then will you kill me sister?”

“never” you whispered, gripping his hand tightly, “you are the other half of me, I found you dying on the hills for a reason, I have felt your pain and joy for years…I will not betray you” “you staying here does…it hurts me, makes me ache for you”

You took a deep breath, moving the tray of Aemond’s lap, and yourself towards him.

You took his face in your heads, your forehead lent against his.

“I ache for you…everyday of my life I have ached for you” you breathed “I waited, I waited for you to feel he same for you to tell me you wished to have me as your wife and yet that day never came until a week past…after I am married and made a mother” your eyes swelled with tears, “if the gods wished us together they would have made it easier for us Aemond…they never would have put us on opposing side of a war…or me with a husband i-“ you were cut off with Aemond’s lips on yours.

His mouth merged with yours, moving in tandem with the others, years of love and desire melting into one as his mouth kissed yours, his hands gripping your sides as he pulled you onto his lap.

Your hands reaching for his hair, tugging him closer to you.

Soft moans left your moth as his tongue danced with yours.

Your dress loosened by his wandering hands.

Your hips moving slowly against this, his length hardening against your thigh as you cunt became sickened with your wet heat.

“Aemond” you moaned breaking away from him. “I am married”

“and I do not care” he smoke, removing his shirt and they your dress. Leaving you both bare.

Your eyes were roaming and quick.

As if nervous to see another man naked, and yet Aemond had long been the only man you ever desired.

You should be filled with guilt, with the thought of your husband and yet, no guilt chased you as you removed the covers and revealed Aemond’s cock.

You swallowed at he sight of him.

You moved forward placing a quick kiss to his lips, hovering over his cock, before lunging down.

The feeling of your walls wrapping around his cock made you both moan, your breaths heavy as you adjusted to the size of him.

Your head reasted on his shoulder, his hands gripping your waists as you began to lift your self of his cock, only to push them down once more.

You set a slow pace as you rode him, moving your hips in slow circular motions.

Aemond placed soft kisses to your neck, urging you to look at him.

He moaned your name, his hands caressing your sides, before settling once more on your hips.

Gripping your waist, he began to move you up and down on his cock, his pace fast and full of pleasure.

Your peak came fast, your moans covered by your hands as you rode his cock.

Your walls clenching around his cock, causing Aemond’s own peak to wash over him, his seed filling you as you lay breathless above him.

“Aemond” you breathed, kissing his chest lightly as he held you to him.

“I have wanted to do that forever” he whispered, kissing your head.

You wanted to say so may things and yet you couldn’t.

You felt joy at having Aemond finally, at your emotions being laid bare before him.

And yet a sadness watched over you as if this was a goodbye.

And seeing as shouts were heard, the sound of hooves and a rapid knock upon the door, you realised it was.

He gripped your hand, “stay” he urged.

“it is my husband” you whispered, gathering your clothes in a rush., “he can never know…you must leave!”

“leave? How when our husband and his men circle the courtyard”

“i- i- don’t..” you mumbled in a panic as your redressed, “this never happened Aemond, you must bend plea for something…I don’t know say you pledge for Rhaenyra”

“he will never believe it…and why would I come here if I did”

The knocking sounded once more…look asleep and sickly… I will come back” your promised rushing out the doors and to greet your husband.

“Husband” you greeted, a breathless smile on your face, “you are back?”

“only for a time, I’m afraid” he said, sad smile on his face as he gave you a kiss in greeting.

He turned serious as he faced you, his voice a whisper as he spoke, “your brother…Aemond” he began, “he is here?”

You swallowed, “yes…but please I beg don’t kill him” you said tears filling your eyes, “he can be our prisoner…I sent his dragon away he has no means of leaving” you begged.

He looked at you hesitantly, before urging you to talk inside.

“he is a kin slayer” he spoke outright, “he should be killed…executed”

“I know…but he is a valuable prisoner.” He looked at you the, with the same look he gave you the first few months of your marriage. When you felt alone and needed Aemond like you need air to breath.

“do you still love him?” he spoke after a moment, “and do not deny that you ever did…I know of the whispers and I know you saved his life days ago”

“you are my husband…the father of my son…I have cared for you and even started to love you-“

“but do you love him?”

You stared at him your eyes begging for what, you did not know “what does it matter” you sighed in mock defeat.

Cregan kissed his teeth, “queen Rhaenyra has taken Kingslanding, Aegon is missing, and Aemond now a hostage of the north and you...” he stopped himself unsure of what to make of you, “you are my wife and the lady of the north, a kingdom pledged to the queen”

“so what? Am I too a prisoner until you can test my loyalty?”

“do I need to test your loyalty?”

You had no reply as you stormed out of his solar, and to your own rooms.

You realised you had no choice in what was to come, Aemond would die and no prayers would save him from what his fate was set to be.

Sighing you faced the room you had made a home, now it seemed empty.

The crib lay empty, your son in the nursery.

Your bed made and fire well kept.

Your thing scattered, with clothes left tidy in their dresser, blanket slung over chairs, books left stacked.  

You sighed, your head falling in your hands as you began to pace your room.

Then the realisation hit, the need to flea and run

Grabbing a bag you packed everything you could, clothes and books, hairbrushes and toys for your son.

A cloak slung over your shoulder, the bag well hidden as you made way to the nursery.

Smiling as you greeted him, his smiles lighting the room as you took him into your arms and made way to where Aemond was kept.

He lay in his bed, the food you had brought now eaten, a book lay in his hand.

“Aemond” you breathed, closing the door behind you. “we must leave” you said as you chucked some of the clothes Cregan kept in your chamber towards him.

Fleeing proved easier than you had thought. With feasts and revelry at your husbands return it was easy to sneak through the keep and towards the godswood.

Vhagar had made her way there only days ago, and though Aemond was still weak from the cold, he seemed to lighten up at the sight of her.

“where are we going?” he breathed as you tossed Aemond the bag you had packed.

“to lys” you began, “we cannot stay in Westeros and with the triarchy as your ally I am sure we would be safer there than here.”

After that day no one knows what happened to the Targaryen twins, many assumed Aemond had kidnapped you in act of revenge for your supposed loyalty to Rhaenrya and your betrayal against him. When in truth the escape had been your plan, and whilst you had lived in lys, myr and Tyrosh, moving from place to place for the first five years in fear of assassins, you later found a home where you thrive away from the war Aemond had began.

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[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Between Fire and Stone

Daemon Targaryen/Strong!female

summary: anxious about her approaching union to Aemond, the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen seeks comfort | word count: 2.8k~ | warnings: incest, reader is described with strong features, fingering, p in v sex, arranged marriage, Daemon being a cheeky cunt

A/N: idek what I was on to write this cos I'm not usually a Daemon girlie but here we are besties. Tysm @em-writes-stuff-sometimes for beta-ing 😘 appreciate you

The cold mist nipped at the skin around her ankles, a shiver running up her spine as she struggled through the jagged rock towards the Dragonmont. Her fingers brushed against the stark stone for balance, the other holding the lit torch to light her way before her in the darkness.

It was one of her favourite things, taking a stroll through Dragonstone in the hour of the wolf. Peaceful. Quiet. Something she could have all for herself. Away from the prying of her maidservants and the overbearing boisterous nature of her brothers. Though Jace, now a man grown, still held onto those immaturities.

Yet another thing that set her apart from her siblings.

For she, only a mere year younger than Jace, was considered a woman, ripe for marriage and bearing children, whereas the same hastiness was not pressured upon him. She knew her mother had never intended to bestow such responsibilities on her, but she understood, it was inevitable. As that time loomed ever closer, she found herself roaming her home more often, as if to savour the feeling of once being a child.

Where her brothers could seek adventure with their dragons once they were big enough to saddle, her egg had not hatched in her cradle. She would not inherit the birthright of the blood of Old Valyria, yet another judgement cast upon her that only inflated her sense of belonging at her mother's side. With her moonlit hair and pale lilac eyes, each of her children could not have looked more different.

Before the incident, there existed only one other soul who could truly fathom the depths of her solitude. No dragon. Ceaseless taunts. The notion of isolation, even amongst one’s family. Any semblance of camaraderie had been extinguished the day Lucerys took his eye. That defining moment when Aemond—her uncle—seized his birthright had marked the fracture in their familial bonds. In the aftermath, her mother, alongside her new husband Daemon, orchestrated a grand scheme to mend the shattered relations, a plan that involved her betrothal to him at an opportune moment.

Try as she might, she couldn't conjure the image of herself as his wife. The thought of residing in King's Landing under his roof refused to coalesce into a coherent vision. It remained an elusive spectre, haunting her thoughts with its intangible uncertainty.

Whispers of tradition and duty echoed in the hallowed halls of her childhood, spun by the gentle tongues of Septas who spoke of the sacred rites of marriage. Tales of Lords and Ladies, of the solemn exchange of vows, and the anticipated consummation on the wedding night. Some stories painted a picture of pleasure and intimacy, of unions founded on mutual desire and affection. Others whispered of duty, of sacrifices made for the sake of one's spouse, regardless of personal inclination.

Caught in the web of uncertainty, she pondered which version of Aemond awaited her, a tender partner or a distant lord, bound by duty and tradition. The unknown loomed before her like a shadow, casting doubt upon her heart and stirring a quiet fear within her soul. She knew not what to expect, but the uncertainty itself was enough to unsettle her, to sow the seeds of apprehension in her mind. And as the weight of anticipation hung heavy in the air, she couldn't help but wonder, which path would her marriage tread, and would she have the strength to endure whatever lay ahead?

Amidst the towering peaks of Dragonmont, she sought solace in the embrace of ancient flames and the soothing hum of Vermithor's slumber. Here, amidst the rugged terrain and the ever-watchful gaze of the dragons, she found a fleeting sense of peace.

But it was not the Bronze Fury that sang to her. 

“Hen ñuhā elēnī:

Perzyssy vestretis,

Se gēlȳn irūdaks…

Ānogrose.”

She felt the rush of heat at the nape of her neck. Daemon stood straight, back facing her, his voice near-matching the hum of Vermithor’s deep exhales.

“It is late, Princess.” Unlike her, Daemon remained as he dressed during the day, shown when he turned to face her, with the self-satisfied smirk on his lips. “What troubles you?” he asked.

She tried to raise her chin, but her eyes betrayed the turmoil that stirred within. 

“My fate,” she said, her careful steps drawing ever nearer. "I am to be wed to Aemond, but I fear what awaits me in that union.”

Daemon hummed, as if curiously amused.

She had known no father figure since Laenor. And though she knew sooner than her brothers the truth that lay beneath the careful picture her mother had forged, since she had been wed to Daemon, he had taken practice with his own daughters and become almost a father to her alike.

She felt his eyes sink over her once before returning to her eyes.

"Marriage is a weighty matter," he said. "But is it the marriage itself that troubles you, or something more?”

She did not miss the lilt to his voice. The one, that like his eyes had done many times before, made something squeeze in her gut. A fire burning bright. A feeling that brought her shame.

He was her mother's husband.

“I cannot say exactly,” she confessed. “Perhaps it is leaving Dragonstone. Mother and my brothers. And being alone in the capital with no face I recognise with trust.”

Daemon nodded almost indistinctly, his fingers reaching out to brush a lock of hair back over her shoulder, admiring her hair loose of its usual braids. His touch sent a shiver down her spine, a sensation both familiar and disconcerting. She fought to push aside the conflicting emotions that threatened to overwhelm her, the warmth of his touch conflicting with the knowledge of their complicated relationship.

"Leaving behind the familiar can indeed be a daunting prospect," Daemon acknowledged, his voice a velvet caress, “But fret not. Within you resides the same fire that fuels your mother's resolve. Embrace it. You are as much Targaryen as any of them.”

She felt a blush creeping up her cheeks at the intensity of his gaze, at the way he seemed to see straight through her defences. She knew she should be wary of his advances, of the way he danced on the edge of propriety with his words and his touch. But there was something undeniably alluring about the way he held her gaze, about the way he made her feel desired and understood.

"Thank you, Daemon," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Your support means more to me than you know.”

Daemon's smile was a slow, seductive curve of his lips, his eyes alight with a fire that mirrored the flames of the Dragonmont. 

"Ah, but my dear Princess," he replied, his voice low and husky, "you have yet to discover the true depths of my support.”

She felt her throat close up, the feeling mirroring somewhat what happened between her thighs.

What could he possibly mean?

“Do you fear it?” he asked. “The act of consummation?”

Her cheeks flushed crimson at Daemon's bold question, his words sending a jolt of both arousal and apprehension coursing through her veins. 

“It… is perfectly normal, I would think,” she answered, words failing her.

"Princess," he murmured, his voice a soothing caress against her skin. "There is no shame in feeling uncertain. It is only natural to have doubts, especially when faced with such intimate matters.”

She felt he was circling her, as dragons did their targets. And felt her heart thumping in her chest.

“With Aegon, I dare say, I would join you in your uncertainty. But Aemond, on the other hand… is a different matter entirely.”

“How so?” she asked, breathing out when he disappeared out of her line of sight, his presence at her back, fingers draping past the material of her dress.

“I am afraid he may be less… forthcoming with expressing his desires,” he purred. “He may be cold, or at least that is how it may be interpreted.” Her eyes met his with bated breath as he appeared on her opposite side, closer. “He may not be so adept with the pleasures of a female body.”

She swallowed, a chill settling on her front, her body reacting thus. He remained silent, as if daring her to say what he knew was already on the tip of her tongue. So, she took the plunge. “And…you are?”

Daemon smirked smugly, and she knew she already had her answer., “What do you think?”

Her heart raced. Her mind struggled to contemplate whether she should be honest or not, for she had heard stories and rumours. She knew she was treading dangerous waters, playing with fire in the form of her mother's husband, but there was a part of her that couldn't resist the allure of his confidence, his charm, his undeniable magnetism.

"I... I suppose I never considered such matters," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, her cheeks burning with embarrassment at the admission.

Daemon's eyes danced with amusement as he stepped closer. "Perhaps it is time you did," he murmured, fingers trailing lightly down the curve of her spine.

Her skin vibrated with anticipation as she fought to maintain her composure in the face of his overwhelming presence. She knew she should pull away, should put an end to this dangerous game they were playing, but the lure of Daemon's charm was too strong to resist.

“Mayhaps I could demonstrate and put your worries to rest,” he suggested, crossing the imaginary but daring line seemingly without fear. “Rest assured, my experience in such matters is... extensive."

Her heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to maintain her resolve, her body betraying her with every flutter of her lashes, every quickened breath. “But… you and Mother—”

Her lips clamped shut with the bruising of his grip in the softness of her waist, urging her back to the rocky, hard wall. Only now, when faced with the Rogue Prince, did she realise just how small she truly felt.

“Your mother is preoccupied with her own affairs," he replied, his voice dripping with a dangerous allure. "She won't concern herself with our little... indiscretion.”

The realisation sank in that she was alone with Daemon in the secluded confines of the Dragonmont, far removed from the prying eyes of the world. And yet, she still felt her lips go dry when he hung the torch and trailed his touch upon her skin where he was taking her skirts with it.

She could not hide her nerves, or the beating rush of arousal, “Bu—but… with Aemond, I must—”

The air felt warm as her skirt was rucked around her hips. She squeaked when his calloused fingers swept through her folds, ashamed to find she was affected by what he was doing to her as her slick coated them easily.

Daemon chuckled, a pleased hum in his chest that she was wet and ready, while his other hand busied with the laces of his breeches, “Sweet girl. When my dear nephew has his cock buried inside you on your wedding night, he will not know the difference.”

His words, combined with the tight circles he applied to the forbidden bud tucked between her legs, had white hot pleasure burning in her veins. Her lips were parted, but no sound came out. All she could do was look upon his pleased face with a hedonistic expression, feeling very much like they were doing something deliciously wrong but could find no reasonable excuse to cease.

“Do not look so surprised. I have seen the way you watch me. Are you not ashamed for looking upon your own mother’s husband with lust?” 

The more he touched her, the more arousal he coaxed forth, the sound lewd and forbidden in the raw silence of the Draognmont. She could not answer his question without subjecting herself to further embarrassment. Even so, attempting to concentrate enough to form words as his two forefingers slid within her tight, hot walls, was near impossible. She gasped quietly, the feeling so foreign and yet not unpleasant. And like Daemon in any other scenario, while his motions were forceful, somewhat brutal, they were calculated, without effort. Like it came innately. Her hands found purchase on his shoulders, his digits buried deep inside curved towards him, stoking a fire at the hearth of her.

“Answer me.”

She nodded frantically. “Yes—I am ashamed—”

It was all she managed before the feeling began to crest, building and building as if she were climbing some great height and was about to tumble off. But she only exhaled shakily as Daemon withdrew his fingers from her fluttering, sensitive walls, using the moisture to lubricate himself with a careful caress of his manhood.

He chuckled at the wounded expression on her face. “No need for shame, Princess.”

She caught the glint of his ring as he wrung the fabric of her skirts in his fist. Her eyes widened as the head of his cock disappeared easily between her swollen folds, with no real full feeling until he pushed forward, both with hesitation and a sort of evil excitement.

Her back pressed against the jagged stone, her lips only parted to suck in air where it had left her lungs. It was a feeling she could describe very little, the sting of being stretched around him painful and yet once sheathed fully inside her, hips pushing against her own. Daemon wrapped his fingers around her fleshy thigh to tug her leg over his hip, a flash of white hot pleasure creeping up her spine. He only grunted, her slick ridges gripping him greedily without any effort on her part. 

For a few moments, he stayed like that as if waiting for any complaint, but when he found none, began a steady rhythm, fingers creating crescent-moon shaped welts in her skin. He did not share in her reaction. He simply raised one corner of his lips in a pleased manner, watching her face, treating it very much as a lesson in pleasure more than anything else.

She could scarcely think with the violent push of his hips, the notch of his belt stabbing into her each time.

“My nephew does not deserve this perfect. little cunt.” He grunted from the effort. “Tell me, Princess—when he is fucking you with his narrow little prick, will you be thinking of this instead?”

Her eyes slipped shut, her head tipped back and fingers coming to her own mouth to muffle the lewd sound that threatened to come out. Her perceived embarrassment at her own enjoyment of this only seemed to motivate Daemon further, and he widened her hips with a soft nudge of his knee against her leg and groaned at the way she tightened around him.

“You liked that, didn't you?” He breathed against her face, looking briefly down between them to watch how he rooted himself inside her over and over, as if unable to believe this was really happening. “I bet he won't make you this wet. I doubt the little cunt will even know how to make you come.”

Her skirt fell from his hand as it drew down between them, and she resisted the urge to squeal when he began to apply pressure in tight, sure circles around her bud.

“You shall have to teach him those pleasures.”

Her fingers gripped his forearms tight as she climaxed, her tight, hot walls spasming around him uncontrollably. It was so utterly different to the way she had pleasured herself before. This time, the forbidden combination of Daemon stretching her open around him and the pleasure he coaxed from her with his fingers meant that this peak seemed to drain her entire body of energy. Her body feeling boneless in his hold, that if he let go, she would surely lose her balance.

A flash of fear cracked like lightning across her subconscious. Surely he did not intend to spill inside her?

He did not overstimulate her for much longer as he neared his own end. Rather, he savoured the feeling of her warmth sucking him in for just a few moments more before pulling out, stroking himself vigorously to completion, warm ropes of his spend coating her lower stomach.

In the quiet dead of night with only her laboured breathing to echo within it, she felt her eyes could not keep up with her mind as she glanced back up at him. His rapidly cooling seed began to dribble towards her thighs, swiftly covered by her skirts once more as Daemon lowered her clothing back into place. The reality of the dangerous and yet delicious sin she had committed with him began to rise into clarity.

Upon his fingers shone the damning proof of his sordid claim on her, pearly in the glow of torchlight. “What a waste. I’d have liked to see it dripping from you.

But that pleasure… I shall save for my nephew, sweet girl."

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @valleyof-goldenlilies

[divinesolas]

bubbling thoughts

summary: after your husband goes off without a word you are left to ponder your relationship with him and does he truly love for you when theres another he clearly cares for?

jacaerys velaryon x fem!non targ!reader

c.w: misunderstandings, miscommunication, angst? with a happy ending ofc, oblivious jace, jealous reader, baela and jace are close, nsfw, oral (fem), not proofread

a.n: surprise upload 😁

perm jace taglist ! (open) @cruelworldlana @smurfelle @ireneispunk @hxtd @venmondiese @urmomsgirlfriend1 @jacesvelaryons @earth4angels @itsemohours @valdezthg @cecestea

Four days. that's how long you had gone without seeing him. Like a wisp in the night he had been up and gone by the time you woke up. You had just thought he was busy, maybe he was out training by the water but when you heard the whispers of the council members curious as to where the heir had gone you began to worry. When you took your worries to his mother you assured you he was fine and baela had informed her he was off to the twins.

Baela. He did not inform you where he was going but he told baela? She watches the anger twist on your face and places a comforting hand on yours but can offer you no true words of assurance. You two have been married for two months now, his mother needed the alliance with your family led to you having a very quick marriage barely getting to speak to one another before the big day. Yet none of that seemed to matter as he was the most devoted and loving man you had ever met. You had thought you could never be happier but he did have his flaws of him. He was a bit temperamental, taking things a bit too seriously which you understood seeing his position but there was one you could hardly look past and it was more so your fault than his.

she’s his sister obviously he loves and cares for her but you cant help but feel sickly jealous when he seeks out her company or even so much as speaks about her. If it was anybody else you would have nothing to worry about but he is a Targaryen and you fear it might just be how they are and what they do. You were already on the edge when he could barely sit still during dinner one night cause she had missed it and when he did not return for far too long after going to search for her you did not miss the grin on his face.

You know it is platonic or more so you hope so. he does nothing but shower you will love but this has been nagging at the back of your head and you feel as though you have now snapped. Everyone had taken to avoiding you, you had not even seen baela and are thankful for it knowing you probably wrongfully snap at her. You walk around everywhere with a scowl on your face and you had taken to sleeping in a guest room unable to stomach being in his scent despite how much it keeps you up.

You miss him but you hate him. No you don’t hate him you merely wish for some sort of reassurance from him. anything. The night of the fourth day your eyes shoot open at the sounds of dragon wings flapping in the air and you sit up looking out the window in alarm before your felt your heart ache at the sight of familiar green wings. You flop down back into bed with a quiet huff not interested in going to see him at all closing your eyes and attempt to fall back asleep. He does not deserve to see you. But as you turn back and forth you look up at the ceiling in defeat. you hate how much this is bothering you. if only you just spoke to him it could all be fixed but you worried of what he’ll say. maybe he’ll call you crazy for even thinking such a thing or worse he’ll get defensive over baela and say you’re just jealous of her. it’ll be worse cause you are, you are so sickly jealous of how pretty she is, how head strong she is, un afraid to take risks and put herself in danger and you’re jealous of how close she is to Jacaerys.

You just need to clear your head. Maybe a walk by the beach would be good for you. Yet you find it hard to convince yourself as maybe you could run into him. You decide its worth the risk, if you run into him you could just run away? you had no real clue what you would do or what you would say to him but you just need to get out of this room out of this castle right now. The halls are terribly dark which is perfect for you and with your dark cloak on your back you swiftly make your way down the familiar halls in the hopes of not being seen.

Your dreams are swiftly crushed as you crash into someone as you turn the corner and your heart plummets as you see his face. “My love,” He grins, though you can see the hesitation clearly on his face he still holds your forearms lovingly, “I've missed you, i was looking for you everywhere.” His face plummets when you scoff lightly, turning your head to the ground so you don't have to see his pout. “you were the first person i wanted to see-” “i find that hard to believe.” Your words are sharp as you harshly cut him off and you can feel his grip around you tighten.

When he speaks next there's a sense of urgency and desperation that makes you want to crumble before him. “what happened? i heard you begun sleeping in one of the guest rooms if i have done something-“ “it is nothing now please let me go.” “i refuse to. i refuse to let you walk away from this tell me what has happened i will do anything to remedy it i swear it.”

you snap. “why don’t you go see baela I'm sure she is eager to see you as you are to her.” You rip yourself away from him as your words get weaker on your tongue and by the time you finish it comes out as a meek sound.

You decide the walk was an awful idea no longer interested in being anywhere near his presence you whip back around and make your way back to your room. you hear him call after you and his fast footsteps following quickly after you. “my love please you misunderstand i love you” you attempt to ignore him but his scent and his breathing rings in your ear as you try to act as though he is not there.

“please do not walk away let us speak.” “i do not wish to speak with you Jace please goodnight.” he stops the door from being shut and you have to quickly look away from the broken look on his face. “do not sleep in here please just come back to our room please.” he sounds like he’s on the edge of tears and you cant take it, you walk away from the door to go sit on the bed tossing your cloak somewhere in the room, “please just leave.” he doesn’t and you knew it wouldn’t. closing the door behind him as he swiftly makes his way towards where you sit on the bed.

you expect him to take place next to you but your eyes widen as he drops to his knees in front of you and grabs your hands that had been places in your lap clutching them closely to him. “i do not love baela like that i love baela as a sister.” “you are a Targaryen what comfort does that bring me.” you decide to finally look at him and see the strain on his face and the way his eyes clearly sting over with tears.

His hair is wet just like the rest of his clothes while his cheeks are redder than an apple. you cannot faulter despite how much you want to grip his cheeks and kiss his plush lips you remain firm and simple stare at him. “that is not want i mean, i love her but not like i love you. you are my stars and my moon, my sun and my sky, my life would not exist without you in it. everything i feel for baela is strictly familiar nothing like how i feel for you.” you feel yourself slipping further and further with every word he speaks and you crack at the soft kiss he places on your joined hands. “i was miserable without you these days.”

“then why did you not inform me of your leaving? you told her. i am your wife jacaerys.” you hate the way the tears slip down your face but you cant help it any further, simply aching for some comfort from him. he grabs your face as his own tears slip down his face. “i did not plan to tell anyone my love i swear im sorry im so sorry i simply ran into her on my way out it was unavoidable. i did not mean to make you feel like this and it pains me that ive made you feel like this im so sorry i will never forgive myself.”

You believe him. Your hands go to cup his face and he leans into your palms as you wipe the tears from his face. “i am the only woman you love?” “the only one for the rest of my life. i will love you until my last breath.” he watches as a small grin takes over and feels a small relief wash over him. “then prove it.”

his brows raise mischievously and a grin takes over his face and your eager look. “i will spend everyday proving it, but for now i shall start by making you scream” You barely have anytime to process before his head disappears under your night gown and begins to lick at your growing wetness covered by your underwear. “jace dont tease me.” you feel him lightly bite your inner thigh before he pushes aside the fabric and eagerly begins to lick at your walls with a moan. “fuck ive missed this so much.” That night you can barley count how many times he made you cum on his tongue but it was all worth it to him to see that blissful look on your face and the way you basically passed out after he had finally pulled away from you.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Based off of something I saw on TikTok recently

Hotd characters that I think would be absolutely ecstatic in calling you his spouse(not in any particular order) :

Benjicot Blackwood:

This man is going to think it’s all a dream that you married him but once he finds comfort that it’s not and that you are in fact married, he’ll smile the biggest smile and just acts proud that you chose him out of every possible suitor.

He ain’t looking at anyone else when he’s got you babe, Willem Blackwood and Alysanne brought him up better than that and he knew better himself then to do such a thing.

He’s a simp for you and everyone in the Riverlands knows this, Oscar and Kermit tease him relentlessly for this but Benjicot doesn’t fucking care, he’ll happily let his mind wander to you and talk about you at any given moment if he were to see anything that made him think about you to anyone who could hear him.

Jacaerys Velaryon;

Devote husband who’ll gladly wait on you hand and foot without question.

He loved calling you his spouse, it fills him with joy and happiness in letting everyone know that you are bound to one another for eternity.

Anyone insults you? He’s quick to say ‘have care for what you say in front of my spouse.’ With his hands resting on the pommel of his sword, a silent threat that spoke a million words. He will not allow anyone to mess with you in any regard, as an insult on you might as well be an insult on him too and Jace won’t have that. You deserve respect and by the gods he’ll give you it tenfold.

Aeron Bracken;

He’s gonna be all chivalrous about it and such but you know he’s going to rub in the fact that he got you before a Blackwood could.

He loves that he had something over them now and it was the fact that you married him and he’s on cloud nine the entire time, he belonged to you and he’ll kneel before you often just so he could look up at you with those pretty eyes of his.

He may look like an angel in human form but you were akin to a deity he’d gladly lay his life down for if it meant getting to be the one laying in your arms each and every night. His sword was yours and he’ll cut down anyone you held a dislike towards for a while, just say the word and Aeron will seek them out for you, his beloved spouse.

Gwayne Hightower

Can and will use any opportunity to call you his spouse at any given moment of any day to the point it’s borderline annoying. Not for you and him though, for everyone else that is.

Gwayne will call you his spouse for all of those in court to hear and he’ll be smug about it too because why the fuck would he not! He’s married to the most wonderful person in all the realms; you! You can’t fault him for wanting to remind everyone that he was well and truly taken and happily so.

He says it in front of Criston Cole the most for the reactions that he gets, Criston wore his emotions clear as day on his face that it was obvious to know how he was feeling, so Gwayne abuses this fact to the high heavens.

He loves showing you off because he knows he had gotten extremely lucky in life when you came along.

[asumi2020202]

Was I truly that Bad?

Pairing: Dad!Daemon x reader

Summary: Whilst fulfilling the wishes of his Queen, Daemon accidentally hurt you beyond repair. He regretted it till death.

A/n: This idea just recently popped up in my head. So I wrote it down hehe. Anyways, this will have the ending same as Helaena's. Thank you for reading.

Note:

There are some changes in the storyline.

It is short, I don't really know if I like it.

____________________________ฅ⁠^⁠•⁠ﻌ⁠•⁠^⁠ฅ_____

All throughout the realm, you were the only one acknowledged as a true born child of Rhaenyra. You had silky white hair, and violet eyes like you mother and... Father

Rhaenyra had a you in secret. You were conceived after the birth of Jace but before the birth of Luke. Everyone knew you were Daemon's daughter since his affection was not really secretive.

You were offered to Aemond Targaryen to 'fix' the rift between the family much to your father's dislike.

The Hell broke loose when Luke died because of your husband and his dragon.

You had a son with Aemond. He was the only light you had after receiving the news of Aegon's coronation.

Aemond tried to be there for you when Aegon said that you would not leave your room. He wanted to keep you hostage knowing you were the Queen and King consort's daughter.

_________________________________________

"He has white hair and one eye. Should be easy enough to find." Daemon spoke.

The man before him stayed silent for a second before replying "What if we can't find him?".

Daemon only looked him in eye before giving further information.

_________________________________________

You were in the nursery, singing to you child when suddenly someone entered.

You thought it was a maid or Aemond. So you turned around only to find a rat catcher.

You were going to scream but he put his dagger on your throat before you could. You son was still in your arms.

The rat catcher smirked as another man entered.

"Who's she?" The other man asked.

"She's the Queen she is." Replied the rat catcher in a whispering manner.

"A son.. for a son he said."

"I know but look in her arms. That's the prince's son."

The rat catcher released your throat before saying " we ain't here to hurt ya. We only want the boy."

You looked visibly shocked and fear stricken.

"I have a necklace..... It is of great value." You spoke as you tried to removed it with one hand. The taller man tore it off you neck before saying "thats not a son."

"Kill me please. I beg you don't hurt my child." By now you were already crying. The rat catcher forcefully took your son from your hands.

In front of your very eyes you saw your little boy's head getting separated. The men hastily put his head inside a bag before leaving.

You started to sob heavily. Having difficulties breathing.

Aemond barged through the room after he heard your screams and wails. Alicent, Aegon and Otto were present too. Alicent wanted to throw up.

Aegon was sad. He always did love you. He wanted your mother to betroth you to him but he was already betrothed to Helaena. Now that he saw you like this, desperately trying to wipe the blood that oozed out of your son's body, he felt hurt too.

From that day forth, you didn't eat, sleep or even bathe. You were completely dead inside. More so when you got to know that the one who sent them was your father. Grief blinded you.

_________________________________________

The green council had decided to send you and the Dowager Queen to the funeral after they caught one of the perpetrator.

The people tried to reach for you as they saw your son, Baelor's body. The way the 1 year old boy's head was stitched with his neck.

The cart which held your son's body fell in a hole in the road. People tried to approach you and touch you, giving their condolences. You desperately clutched on Alicent's cloth as she tried to help you through your panic attack.

You couldn't hear anything. Only a ringing in your ear as you knelt in your and the Dowager Queen's cart. The last thing you heard was

"A curse! A curse on Rhaenyra the Monstrous!"

Someone cursed your mother. Soon all went black as your vision faded.

_________________________________________

"How could you do this Daemon?! To our sweet child!" Rhaenyra shouted, fury and sorrow flooding through.

"I told them specifically for Aemond. Shes my daughter as well, I know I did wrong. It was a mistake.

I was there that day. The day she was forced to attend the funeral. I am hurt as well knowing my daughter lost her son!" Daemon replied.

"You will never understand what a mother feels when she loses her child. My little girl lost her only child. Alicent reached out to me in secret! She told me that my girl is not even eating properly! She's down with a heavy fever..." Rhaenyra argued. She was crying.

Daemon had made a grave mistake. He never wanted to hurt you. He never meant for his grandchild to die. Right in front of your eyes. He wanted to kill Aemond for Luke's death, yes. But he wanted to kill Aemond so you could be free. So you could come back to your family. He never wanted to bring you pain. You were his daughter, his little zaldrīzes.

________________________________________

The black council was going on and on with what move they should play. Rhaenyra was getting frustrated.

Rhaenyra's personal maid, Elinda came in. She bowed before all, her eyes watering. As Rhaenyra was going to ask her what happened she said

"The princess is dead." All stopped. Everything and everyone silent. Rhaenyra stood still.

"A raven came in just n-now.... It said that Princess y/n jumped off of her window. H-her body was stabbed by Maegor's blades...." Elinda cried as she said. Leaving the room quickly.

The lords all left the council. Only Rhaena, Baela, Jacaerys, Daemon, Rhaenyra and Rhaenys were there.

Daemon couldn't comprehend anything. Her daughter..... Dead? No she wouldn't do that. A dragon's flame cannot be extinguished so easily.

Rhaenyra fell on the floor as Rhaenys supported her. She felt fury. But all she could do was cry. Her sweet girl. Her little Y/n. It was as if only yesterday she was tugging on her skirt and now she's....... dead.....

Jacaerys didn't know what to do. His little sister was dead. Consumed by the grief of the death of his nephew. First he lost Luke now y/n...

Baela and Rhaena cried that entire day. Blaming themselves for not protecting you as elder sisters should.

_________________________________________

Daemon was going to Harrenhal. As he was about to mount Caraxes, as guard came in and handed him something.....

....it was a necklace..... The same one he had given you. He felt a tear fall down his cheek. His heart hurt. So much. Yet he couldn't express it.

_________________________________________

Daemon had conquered Harrenhal. He was walking inside his leaking room when he heard his door being violently knocked on.

After picking up his sword, he carefully came down the stairs outside his room. He found a room.

He saw a figure humming while sitting infront of the fireplace.

As he got closer, the figure spoke to him

"I'm a bad child aren't i? You hate me. I always disobeyed everyone. But I only did so to be with you." It was you. His eyes watered. You were wearing the necklace he gave you.

He shook his head no. He didn't hate you because you disobeyed. He loved you for it.

"Why did you punish me so much ? Was I truly that Bad...... Kepã?" He heard you say as he got closer. He saw you stitching your son's head while crying.

His sword fell from his hand as he woke up. He opened his eyes to see a tree. He turned around and saw a woman.

_________________________________________

It was tough. But he did it anyway. He jumped off of Caraxes and landed on Vhagar.

Gripping the Dark Sister tight in his hand, he stabbed it straight through Aemond's right eye.

He saw as Aemond fall in the water. He stumbled as he fell off. Caraxes took Vhagar inside the water.

As Daemon slowly fell from the sky , all he could think about was you.

How he wished he could watch you grow. You were only seven and ten. To young to die.

Before his eyes flashed all the times that you ran away from your septa and hid behind his legs.

The little infant wouldn't stop crying until she was in his arms.

The little toddler first took her steps only to hug her father as he picked her up.

His little y/n. The one who died because of his one mistake.

His eyes were getting blurry and all he saw before he fell in the water was your face, the same face from his dream. Crying. Stitching his grandson's head.

He clutched your necklace tight in his arms as tears gathered in his eyes. His eyes were shut tight. And as he cried...

He repeatedly heard you cry and say

"Was I truly that Bad.............kepã?"

-Lillian

[greer2301]

My Mothers Keeper

Daemon X Fem!Reader

|Step father x step kid fantasy taboo|

Reader is of age!

Smut! MDNI !

He looked so good, his blonde hair cut short, brows pulled together as he leant back and took a sip of his wine with his free hand thudding his fingers along the edge of the table.

I know what those fingers feel like. The euphoria they bring me when he plays with the bundle of nerves between my legs, I know how they fit in my mouth and how my juices taste on them. Daemon Targaryen, my step father, my mother’s keeper and the only man to know what I truly desire.

He sat conversing with Jace about his swordsmanship, he didn’t give away if he noticed my hand creeping up his thigh. Having been leant against his chair for quite some time now no one questions when I lean in a little more. Mother too immersed in what Luke has to say to pull away her attention, I work my hand over his clothed length smirking when I feel him harden in my palm and his body slightly tenses. I loosen the lace on his pants just enough to pull him out, slicking my hand with his seed as I begin to stroke him slowly. I take the opportunity that no one’s paying attention, slipping beneath the table as I keep working his cock.

I wait a moment for someone to notice, my core throbbing as I stroke his thick cock knowing anyone could catch us if they paid any attention. I take him in my mouth, licking from his base to the tip swirling my tongue and tacking him in fully hollowing out my cheeks, bobbing my head quickly and stroking what I can’t reach while twisting my wrist. Daemons hand moved from the table to hold my hand that rested on his clothed thigh, squeezing at times to let me know it feels as good as I think it does. His hand moves to my hair and he shoves my head down without warning, my gag reflex triggers as he blows his load in the back of my throat I swallow and pull off slowly. I clear my throat after I sit back in my seat, taking a sip of wine and placing Joffrey on my lap as his nurse maid brings him in.

Slowly everyone disperses from the dinning area, I step into my room to take my bath, the boys are gone down to the dragon mont, Joffrey is off with his nursemaid and I have no idea where mother and Daemon went. I strip of the days clothes and get into the bath, unbraiding my hair as I breathe in the rose and vanilla oils in the water humming a tune from a bards ballad. I was washing my hair when he came in through one of the old tunnels, quietly sitting at the table across from me and pouring himself some wine as he watched me finish bathing. As I was ready to get out he brought a drying sheet, extended me his hand helping me down the steps while admiring my bare self.

“You’re truly an amazing creature” Daemon started “A little fox, sneaky, beautiful and vicious” Daemon teases as he wraps his arms around me, pulling me close and kissing my neck. Running his hands around my damp curves as he walks us to the bed, his lips molding with mine before he removes my towel and lifts me onto the bed. Daemon wastes no time as his fingers immediately make contact with my aching core, my slick coating his fingers as he skillfully manipulates my clit. “You’re such a pretty whore, a whore for your daddy huh” Daemon grumbles out, his voice thick with lust as he looks into my mixed coloured eyes and watches the look of pleasure on my face.

“Only for Daddy” I tell him with a tremble, gasping as he inserts two fingers in my aching cunt and starts ruthlessly thrusting into me. “Mmm- you were fucking made for me” Daemon says as he moves over me, removing his hand from me and placing his mouth on my clit, his tongue drawing shapes as he applies more pressure. “S’good daddy, please don’t stop, fuck” I moan out as he places his fingers back in and sets his pace again his mouth slurping my juices relentlessly as he shakes his head with a moan. “Need yo- your cock, Daddy please” I moan arching my back as I feel my climax coming. Daemon just moans in response pressing his head against me harder, with one last flick of his tongue I cum. Shaking and sweating, hands holding his head in between my legs moans flowing loudly out of my mouth as he rubs my thighs his tongue slowly helping me ride out my high.

“Now you’ll take Daddy’s cock you little slut” Daemon demands as he unlaces his pants, pushing them down and rubbing his hard length between my lips collecting my slick, without warning he thrusts into me, my hand finding his hip and our eyes locked as we both moan at the sensation. Daemon is ruthless in his speed, slamming his hips into mine with each thrust squelching sounds being heard around the room as his dick forces my cunt open. Our moans are hardly held back, his hands holding my legs bent and pushed back as one of mine plays with my nipple and the other grips his wrist. “Daddy feels so good!” I moan out, back arching off the bed as he thrusts deeper, his head thrown back a little before he looks back at me with a smirk “This is Daddy’s perfect fucking pussy. I’ll burn any man who tries to claim it” Daemon groans as he lets go of my leg and moves to wrap his hand around my neck, cutting off blood flow with the new position his pelvis slaps my clit with each thrust.

“Gonna fucking cum Daddy” I moan out as I scratch his wrist, my pussy tightening around his cock as I start to see stars. “Cum on Daddy’s cock sweet girl” Daemon demands, speeding up his thrusts and pushing me over the edge, shaking as I choke out a moan and cream all over his pretty cock, Daemon moans as he spills his seed in me and stays still for a moment. “You’re going to bare my child, you will never know another cock” Daemon says breathlessly, walking to the basin and grabbing a damp cloth coming back to wipe me off and then himself. Daemon says nothing else as he crawls into bed and holds me close, caressing my shoulder as I snuggle into his side. “We are not naming him fucking Aegon” I tell him finally realizing what he said. “On that we agree” Daemon says with a chuckle.

[princessbellecerise]

Wedding Night

──── ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧ ────

summary | How the House of the Dragon characters would be on your wedding night

warnings | smut and slight mentions of blood, bedding ceremonies and loss of virginity

this is an eighteen plus fic. minors please do not enter

divider by @princessbellecerise

Jacaerys Velaryon

As Strangers

If you and Jace weren’t throughly aquatinted/only married for duty, he would be hesitant

On one hand, he knows that it’s his duty to bed you and provide you with heirs but if he truly saw that you didn’t want to, he wouldn’t push it

He’d wait until you were more comfortable with him/until he absolutely had to and even then he would ask your consent first

The first time might be a little awkward, but Jace would be sure not to hurt you and would at least try to pleasure you

Likewise, he’d also do his best to stop the bedding ceremony. He thinks it’s a disgusting tradition and that no lady should ever be treated like that, especially his wife

The only reason it’d be considered is because he would be king one day, and it was important to confirm that he did in fact produce his heir, especially with the already murky rumors surrounding his birth

So, if it came to that, Jace would try his best to distract you and make you comfortable, taking his time to pleasure you and then making the act itself quick so that you could both be spared further observation

Afterwards, he’d comfort you if that was what you wanted or he’d just leave you alone—but not before making sure that you were okay or even sending you flowers in the morning along with your favorite breakfast

As Friends/Lovers

Now, if you and Jace were in fact friends or even lovers, your wedding night would have a few subtle changes

For instance, Jace would absolutely go to the extremes and be as romantic as possible. He’d decorate your now shared chambers with candles, flowers, and even a bath to relax you beforehand

He would do major research beforehand on how to please you and you best believe he’s going to use it that night. He’d use his tongue, his fingers, anything to bring you to pleasure and show you how much he loves you

And when the times comes, he’s super gentle with you and he will soothe your tears with soft kisses and praises in High Valerian

Jace will make love to you as much as you would like and at first, he’d go slow until the desire for you become too much

Once he’s sure that you’re alright and ready for more, he’d be all too happy to give it to you. Fucking you all night long and filling you with his cum over and over until he’s sure that you’re carrying his heir

He’d probably even slap your ass and take you from behind a few times, going until both you and the dragon prince were exhausted

After you’re done, he’d probably shower you in kisses and be the one to clean you up, cuddling you and then congratulating you on becoming his future Queen

Aemond Targaryen

As Strangers

Even if he does not love you or know you, Aemond will still feel compelled to complete his marital duties

Especially as a prince, he thinks it’s extremely important to one day have heirs, you know—in case he ever finds himself on the Iron Throne

However, Aemond is not a cruel man as many people think him to be. As you surely think him to be

Even though he might be impartial/turn a blind eye to the beginning of bedding ceremony, he will absolutely not have anyone in the room when the act occurs

Not so much for your sake—but also for his as he does not wish to perform in front of a bunch of drunk and vulgar Lords. They irritate him and quite frankly, disgust him to his core

No, Aemond will most certainly order them out and when it’s only the two of you he will look at you and study you. Depending on what he sees, he will make his decision from there

If you are indifferent/believe in completing your duty like him, then he will bed you and he probably won’t be rough but he won’t be gentle either. He’ll just do what is expected of him and then leave you to it

However, if you’re standing in the corner and cowering from him with tears in your eyes, Aemond will not have it inside of him to force you. He knows that eventually you will have to come around, but at least for the first few nights he’ll let you slide until you come to terms with it like he has

For now, he’ll simply stare at you and say nothing as he approaches the bed. Almost…it makes him fault when you whimper, thinking that he is in fact going to force you

You’ll scuttle away from him but then you’ll be visibly surprised when it’s not you that he harms. Instead, Aemond will pull the dagger from his belt and slide it across his palm, smearing his own blood on the sheets to make it look like he took you

Then, he’d wait a few more minutes before he left and when he did, you’d be left shocked that the mysterious prince isn’t as cruel as people make him out to be

As Friends/Lovers

As friends or lovers, both you and Aemond would be desperate for each other come your wedding night

Before then, he would absolutely deny you the pleasure of anything other than kissing him so you’d be so excited that you wouldn’t hesitate to jump his bones

Breathless, eager kisses would be shared among the two of you though Aemond was way better at hiding it then you were. Even though he wanted you just as much, he managed to compose himself up until the moment you were naked

After that, Aemond would absolutely lose it

He’d be so hungry for you that he wouldn’t hesitate to taste you, making you come with his mouth several times before you even had sex

To him, this step is extremely important because he wants to grant you the luxury of having a good first time, unlike his own. Because of what he went through, Aemond would be gentle and extremely passionate with you

You’d see a whole other side of him that you wouldn’t even know he possessed: soft and kind and sweet, never failing to ask if you were okay

He’d enter you slowly and allow you to adjust to his size before pleasuring you with his cock

He’d kiss you so much that your lips would turn swollen and he’d make sure the only thing you would be capable of saying that night would be his name

Over and over, he’d love to hear you praise him and it would most certainly egg him to plant his seed inside of you

If you weren’t pregnant by the end of the night then either you were infertile or just had a plain stubborn womb

And oh—don’t even think about there being a bedding ceremony. Aemond had already threatened to cut off Aegon’s hand if he touched you, let alone the other drunken bastards at his union

Daemon Targaryen

As Strangers

Either way, it’s Daemon’s goal to seduce you that night

Not only because you’re now his wife and responsible for providing him children, but also because Daemon has never had to force a woman to have sex with him and he isn’t about to start now

So, he lays it on thick and whether or not you fall for it will determines how your night goes

If you give in: giggling and blushing at all the Prince’s remarks then he’d feel triumphant and no doubt make love to you in best possible ways

He’d show you what it really means to be married and not miserable like so many of the other ladies you talked to

On the flip side, if you refuse him then he won’t really push it. Sure, his ego will be bruised but there’s plenty of other people out there that will want him so he’s not about to waste too much his time on someone that refuses to even look at him

He’ll go to his whore houses and allow you to your own pleasure, not even giving you children if that’s what you wish. He just hopes that you’re smart enough to pick a lover that at least resembles him enough to pass it off as his

As friends/lovers

If you were Daemon’s friend/lover however, it’s possible that he’s already introduced you to these pleasures and that’s the reason he had to marry you in the first place

Whatever, if you guys had already had sex then it’d be just another night for him—expect he’d promise to be on his best behavior and swear that he’d finally give you that child you’re always begging for

If it was your first time, however, Daemon would be beyond excited

He’d only stuck with teasing and whispering filthy remarks in your ears before then, so to have the real thing would be like his dream come true

The Rouge Prince would have you naked underneath him in no time, and while he finds the idea of a bedding ceremony amusing for other people, it’s absolutely not when it comes to his wife

He will literally kill anyone that dares to mention it so it’s kind of awkward when he tugs you from your dinner table and to the bedroom

Whatever though, you’re just grateful for a husband that loves you enough to spare you from humiliation and one that has such an amazing tongue

With Daemon’s experience, it’s no doubt that you’re seeing stars before he ever even puts his cock inside of you. By the time his head even brushes your entrance, Daemon will make sure you’re well and truly spent and begging for him to fuck you before he gives you what you want

He’s cruel like that; liking the way you squirm underneath him before he slides his cock all the way in

He will bury himself to the hilt and if you happen to cry then he will most definitely talk you through the pain

Telling you what a good girl you are for taking him so deep, nibbling on your ear and trying to distract you from your tears

If he’s really feeling vulnerable, he’ll even kiss them away and coo soft praises in your ear until you adjust to him

But once your heat has molded to the shape of his cock, best believe that Daemon will waste no time before fucking you into the mattress

He will give you everything that you could ever want that night, fucking you in different positions over and over until you’re well and truly spent

It’s only then that Daemon will lay beside you, panting and kissing your knuckles with a grin

“My wife,” He will say, and honestly, your wedding day will probably be the happiest you have ever seen him

Lucerys Velaryon

I can’t imagine a scenario where Rhaenyra would ever engage him to someone he doesn’t know so for this sake, you and Luke are friends

In fast, you’d probably be best friends and fall in love early in your life, having spent majority of your childhood together

Regardless of your house, it’d be obvious that you and Lucerys were destined to marry. Therefore, when it’s brought up to your parents there’s little if any resistance from them

The only thing that would concern people is that you were both still quite young, so Rhaenyra would force you both to wait until you’ve flowered

Even then, it’d probably be a year or two before she’d arrange the wedding, knowing how detrimental it can be for a woman to be deflowered so soon

So, once you and Lucerys were married you’d definitely be way more mature. Still young, but now you were both married and you’d be free to explore as much you’d like

The only problem is that you and Luke are both extremely shy so approaching one another would be nearly agonizing

Rhaenyra and even your own parents would absolutely forbid a bedding ceremony, so it’d be just the of you that night

Both of you with wide eyes and red cheeks, not really sure where to start but eventually finding your way anyways

Daemon will have definitely given Lucerys advice beforehand (with Rhaenyra supervising, of course) so that Luke would have at least a general idea of what to do

He knew that he had to…um, place himself inside of you and you were both nervous as he did so

There was probably no foreplay because neither of you had discovered that yet, so it would hurt quite a bit when he entered you

Never fear though, Lucerys in all his worry will stop and kiss your tears away, only continuing when you give him the green light

He’ll be soft, and gentle but you’ll be able to tell that he really enjoys this new sensation. Sometimes, his hips will snap a little too fast into you and you’ll find that these are the moments that pleasure you the most

Once you start to warm up to the feeling of him inside of you, you’ll definitely allow him to speed up a bit more, even letting him get a bit rough before he’s spilling inside of you

A soft glow will seem to fill the room afterwards, Lucerys calling for a servant to make you a bath and then you both will just relax, maybe even giving it another go once you’ve calmed down

[annwrites]

sons & daughters. part two.

— pairing: cregan stark x fem!reader

— type: part of a series

— summary: you spend a day in winterfell's library, until someone comes looking for you.

— tw: eating

— word count: 2,839

When you wake the next morn, it's to feeling well-rested. You feel so comfortable, in fact, that you have half-a-mind to stay in bed all day, beneath furs and blankets, soft feather pillows resting beneath your head, a warm fire burning—at some point in the night, servants must have snuck in to rebuild it, for elsewise it would be mere embers by now—but know you cannot. Even if Jace is the important one in all this.

You...are merely here to sight-see and stay out of the way.

After Alia—the servant from the night previous—has helped you ready for the day, she then brings you bacon, soft-boiled eggs, honeyed bread with jam, sharp white cheese, and coffee to break your fast.

As you eat, you enjoy the silence. No loud, crashing waves breaking against the base of the castle like at Dragonstone, and no sounds of a sleepless city like that of King's Landing—children screaming, horses whinnying, and criers shouting in the streets.

Winterfell—no, the North, it seems—is...peace. Tranquility. Strength.

Being here... You feel as if you've finally found something you hadn't even known you'd been looking for all your life: a sense of home.

You take another bite of your boiled egg, shaking your head, knowing you cannot grow used to it. It will not last. Before long, you will be perched upon Vermax once again, heading back to Dragonstone, never to return to these lands. As if you want to return there, either.

You think of your mother giving you her blessing for...that, before you and Jace had climbed upon his dragon, ready to depart.

For once, you think her foolish.

No man—certainly not a hardened one of the North—would ever take you to wife for love. No, it's your name that prospects lust after. Even if it, too, is half a lie. They do not want you; just what you can give them.

You wonder where you truly belong then, if anywhere.

Sometimes, you feel so alone in the world.

But here, you just...feel. Quiet. Restful.

And a world away, but finally where you belong.

You bundle yourself in tights beneath your dress once again, with the thickest pair of socks you own donning your feet, boots slipped over them, and gloves on your dainty hands. You then slip on your cloak, desperately wishing it was fur-lined like everyone else's here.

Eventually, you may need to make a small trip into the nearest market town to stock up on winter wear.

Once you deem yourself as ready as you are able to be for the brisk day, you emerge from the castle, clasping your hidden hands nervously once again as you wander around unfamiliar grounds.

You watch as a servant goes by with a small stack of books in her arms and then glance to the tower behind her, most assured that it must be Winterfell's library.

The perfect place for you to spend your day, then, entirely out of the way of your brother's and Lord Stark's political dealings.

Thankfully, there are two small hearths in the library, along with a selection of fine blankets to keep you warm, and a nearby tea tray, piled high with various treats, as well as pitchers of juice, and a silver tea pot to keep your hunger at-bay.

Before long, you are forced to remove a few layers to cool yourself—opting to also seat yourself upon a cushioned window-seat, after kicking off your boots and placing them near you on the floor, so you might feel even a slight, cooling draft as you watch people mill about in the yard while you peruse a selection of novels and books of beautiful artwork, depicting northern kings of old.

You rest your head back against the wooden wall behind you and wonder what Winterfell might look like if Torrhen had not bent the knee to your great, great, great, great grandsire.

So long ago now, and yet it feels so very recent.

Here you and your brother are, after all, asking for aid from the very people your own forebear had subjugated.

You wonder what Lord Stark must think of it. To only be acknowledged—called upon—when it is his strength, his men, his swords and means that another suddenly desires. You're sure he is, otherwise, content to be left alone, away from Southron dealings and schemes.

You sigh, envying him in some ways, but not others.

Envying him his home, his customs, his proud heritage—this place—but not the burden thrust upon him at so young an age.

You are glad for Jacaerys. For your brothers in general. For you cannot imagine the heavy weight of a crown being placed upon your head.

You feel your mother has, thus far, bore it well—stayed her hand, as opposed to plunging the kingdom into war and dragonfire at first opportunity—but you know a dark future looms close if amicable resolve is not soon reached.

Daemon thirsts for bloodshed, using Aegon's usurpation as excuse to enact such violent measures, when you know it has little to do with what the Greens 'stole' from your mother, and instead to do more with his own pride. They took an opportunity from him: an opportunity to mayhaps be Hand of the Queen, or, at the very least, a valued member of her Small Council.

Perhaps Master of War.

You are glad your grandsire disinherited him as heir. That he'd had the foresight to see what sort of ruler he might've been.

You tuck your blanket more tightly around yourself, gladder still to be far from him. Far from all of it.

Your eyes flutter closed—for just a moment you tell yourself—as you allow yourself to pretend that this place could be your home and you not a princess at all, but instead...whomever you wish to be. And that all is well and right in the world, as it had once been not but a few days ago.

Heavy boots thump against wooden stairs, a fur cloak shifts, and eyes the color of a darkening winter sky scan the cramped confines of the Winterfell library, searching.

A broad form weaves through towering bookcases, the smell of parchment, leather, and charcoal greeting his senses.

And, as he rounds a corner, he finally discovers the object of his hunt.

He comes nearer, his prowling steps now quiet to avoid waking you as he peers down at you from beneath a now-unfurrowing brow, his form relaxing as he sees that you are perfectly safe.

He'd had half-a-mind to send out a search party if he and your brother had been unable to find you.

But here you sit, leaned back against the wall, head resting against the window to your side, eyes closed, and your pink lips slightly parted as you take in slow, steady breaths while you dream.

And for the first time in a long, long while, he thinks himself foolish. Because he wishes to know what about, exactly. A handsome lord of the south mayhaps, or, perhaps, a gallant knight whose only fighting experience is that of celebratory tourneys.

He reaches down, gently tucking a lock of hair behind your dainty ear, then running his callused fingertips along your soft, flushed cheek.

He cannot remember the last time he's been so taken with a woman. Not since his late Lady Wife, he is sure.

He still misses her dearly some days. On others, the pain of her loss is easier to bear. He supposes that marrying for love only served to contribute to that pain. And while his son is his heart, he sees her in him, and it oftentimes only serves to make carrying the burden of her sudden passing that much more difficult.

She is in Rickon's smile, his laugh, even his eyes.

He deigns that he shall visit her in the crypts tomorrow morn.

Finally, he seats himself beside you, near your feet, and he leans back against the window behind him, rolling his head to the side to continue gazing upon you.

He wonders why it is here that you chose to sequester yourself away for the day.

He'd asked after you while with Jace, but your twin had stated that you preferred to spend your time alone; that you did not do well with strangers. That he was sure you were fine.

He now worries that you find him too intimidating.

He means to be, certainly. He rules his lands with an iron fist. Would not rule them at all unless he did, considering his uncle's reluctance to relinquish power once he finally came-of-age, and his hand thus being forced when he finally took what was rightfully his from Bennard's clutches.

But he is also fair.

And he can be gentle. When the time calls for it. Even if now is not it. But for you...mayhaps he can make an exception.

Given that he finds you deserving of his more forgiving side, that is. Jace, he thus far, enjoys the company of, at least.

You, he is still trying to gather a reading of. You seem polite enough, shy clearly, and also seem to posses humility. But he knows how sweet a serpent's venom can taste when being fed by a comely young face with a honeyed tongue.

Though, he does not in his heart of hearts truly think you that sort of girl—rather, woman.

He only wishes to spend more time at your side to find out for himself exactly who you are.

He leans toward you, his large hand enveloping the slender crown of your shoulder as he begins to gently shake you awake. "Princess."

Your brows furrow and you stir for only a moment before resuming your peaceful slumber.

He tries again. "Y/N, it is time to wake."

You slowly blink your eyes open, looking around confusedly under hooded lids before your eyes meet his own. "Where—"

"You fell asleep, Princess. It is nearly time for supper."

You suddenly sit up straighter then, heart jumping. You...you'd been here all day? Had slept it away? Gods be good. Now he must think you incredibly lazy.

You can't do anything right, can you?

You hide yourself away to prevent yourself from interrupting he and Jace, and still you managed to do it in error.

"I...forgive me, My Lord. I..." You trail off, looking for an excuse.

"Why did you not join us, Y/N?"

Your eyes meet his then. "I—what?"

His lip twitches at your unsurety of yourself. A far cry from the woman his advisors had been speaking to him of just this morn before breaking his fast, encouraging him into a betrothal with her. One of House Blackwood, with a bawdy tongue and a fierce disposition.

"Jacaerys and I. We had a full day together, discussing future plans if war comes to pass, while exploring Winterfell's grounds. I had looked for you, but you were not to be found. Did you hide yourself away from me here, then?"

Your eyes grow wide. Oh no. Now he thinks you mislike him.

You shake your head. "No. I just...I did not wish to be an impediment, My Lord—Cregan. So I stayed here."

He frowns. You think yourself a burden, clearly. He wishes desperately to see what you are like amongst those you are more comfortable with. Wishes to hear your laugh, to see your smile.

"You do not intend to stay hidden all the while you are here, do you, Y/N?"

You nervously clasp your hands in your lap. "No. I'm sure I will explore on my own eventually. You needn't worry about me."

He studies you for a moment and you merely blink at him in return, waiting for him to speak next.

"Are you hungry, then?" He asks with a raised brow.

You nod, smiling softly.

He stands, towering over you. "Then let us feast."

You slip the blanket from your lap, flushing fiercely when you notice that your gown has ridden all the way up to your thighs beneath it.

You quickly shove it back down, refusing to meet his eyes as you then pull on your boots and slip on your cloak before standing.

You go to leave, until he takes your hand in his, wrapping it round his arm as he leads you both out, his palm resting atop your own all the while.

When you sit to dine, Cregan motions for you to seat yourself next to him, to which you silently oblige.

You truly appreciate him trying to be genial toward you, but you know it is all out of lordly hospitality. That it is due to your title, not you.

Never you.

You remain quiet as always as he and Jace discuss their explorations of the day, listening with interest, so as to give yourself ideas of places to see by yourself tomorrow.

Even if Jace's continual looks are beginning to grate on your nerves. Had something set him off today?

You sip your soup, then take a small bite of bread, only then noticing that Jace is glaring at you, yet again, over his meat pie.

“What?” You ask, annoyed.

Cregan glances to you, surprised by your fiery tone.

“You couldn’t have left a note on your bed, or upon mine—”

You roll your eyes, sighing. Gods forbid you explore the library without a royal escort. “I was in the library, not taking a trip to the Wall. I hadn’t even thought a note necessary." A smug smile then crawls onto your face. "How are you to one day be king if you cannot even look after me?”

He kicks you under the table then. 

You swing your leg back, doing the same and he shouts. “Ouch, that hurt!”

You shrug. “I didn’t feel a thing.”

He plants his palms flat atop the trestle table. “Do it again and I’ll feed you to Vermax.”

You raise a brow, ready to swing your leg back yet again, until Cregan begins to laugh lightly to himself. 

You both turn your heads in his direction, and he waves his hand just once. “Forgive me, My Prince.” He nods toward you. “Princess. I just can’t help but think how much you remind me of my late younger brother, Jace.”

You smile softly and Jace’s shoulders relax then. At least he had not been offended by your sudden displays of anger...

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you say quietly. And you truly mean it. You cannot imagine losing any of your brothers. Not a one.

If you did, especially to war...for the first time in all your life, you wish for a dragon of your very own. Then again, if you had one, whomever took them from you would not be safe. No one would, as such terrible grief overtook you.

Cregan looks at you then, his gaze softening as his thigh presses up against your own. “Thank you, Princess. It was a long time ago, now. I’d like to think, if he had been given a chance to grow into a man, he would be much like your older brother," he says, nodding toward Jace.

Jacaerys smiles at that. “Will you tell us about him, then?”

Cregan nods and throws himself into tales of brotherly love and camaraderie, which you listen to with a warm smile.

Once you have supped, you and Jace head off to bed, even if you do not feel tired—you blame your midday nap (perhaps a bit longer than a nap) for your lack of exhaustion. At least tonight you did not nearly fall over face-first into a bowl of desert.

You bid your brother goodnight after he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.

You refrain from stomping on one of his feet in return after his comment at dinner about making you dinner for his dragon, only because you know Lord Cregan is watching.

When you turn round, you give him a small smile and a slight bow of your head. "Goodnight, Lord—"

"Will you join me in the crypts on the morrow, after breaking our fast?"

You blink in surprise. "I—yes, I can. Are...are you certain?" You imagine it a private and sacred place where outsiders are not entirely welcome.

He nods. "I am."

"I will see you, then, in the morn," you say quietly.

He steps closer to you, forcing you to lean your head back to meet his eyes.

He seems to consider you for a moment, as if debating something internally, before he brushes a soft kiss over your forehead. "I shall see you then."

You watch as he steps into his room, softly shutting the door behind him, while your heart pounds in your chest, and blood rushes to your cheeks, warming them.

That had been most...unexpected.

You enter your own room then, pressing your back against the door, knowing sleep will not find you anytime soon this evening.