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jacaerys velaryon was a learned boy of eight-and-ten, prince of dragonstone and heir to the iron throne of westeros – yet he was completely tongue tied anytime you were near.
you first met the prince when he came to winterfell to visit your brother – lord cregan stark. he arrived on dragonback, sending up plumes of snow when he landed. assembled with the other lords and ladies of the keep, you retreated further into the fine furs. winter had come, and it was a cold one.
“my prince,” lord cregan announced, welcoming jacaerys as he entered the gates, now on foot, “the north welcomes you.”
“i’m pleased to make your acquaintance, lord cregan,” jacaerys smiled, warm and open, “many thanks to your house for such a welcome.”
cregan nodded, then gestured to you, “my younger sister.”
you dutifully stepped forward, curtsied, and introduced yourself, “welcome, your grace. i have heard many tales of your bravery.”
was the prince… blushing?
he seemed to stutter for a moment before he nodded stiffly, “my lady.”
for a feast held in his honor, the prince did not seem to be enjoying it much.
you, however, were in your element. the north was a large place, so cold and empty that you jumped at the chance to have guests. to have so many of the great houses together? you were delighted.
from the moment the dancing started, you didn’t leave the floor. you accepted every man who offered his hand, twirling and spinning and giggling with the other ladies until you practically fell over.
when you returned to your seat beside your brothers, you were flushed and panting. he was off somewhere you did not know, so only an empty chair sat between you and prince jacaerys.
“you do not dance, your grace?” you questioned, pouring yourself a cup of wine.
“i confess it is not my forte,” he looked away with a laugh, “and please, call me jace.”
you took a sip of the deep red liquid, “only if you will grant me a dance. jace.”
you held out a hand, and grinned when he took it. he took the lead from there, leading you out onto the center of the floor. the light grey fabric of your skirts swirled around his dark leather, the silver embroidery shining in candlelight.
“i don’t wish to imply you are a liar,” you began, spinning away from him, then back in, “but you are quite the dancer, my – jace.”
he just chuckled, ducking his head, “you are far outshining me, my lady.”
the next day, jacaerys brought news at breakfast, “my lady mother will be joining us tomorrow. she will only stay for a short while, but wishes to make your acquaintance, lord cregan.”
“how delightful,” you smiled, “to think, brother – the queen , here!”
“yes, yes,” he huffed, then looked at the prince, “we would of course be delighted to host queen rhaenyra.”
“will she be arriving on syrax, jacaerys?” you inquired, and when he nodded, you grinned even wider, “i never dreamed i would see a dragon in this lifetime, but to have two right here at winterfell!”
“would… would you like to go see vermax, my lady?” the prince proposed.
“oh, brother, please,” you sighed, “may i?”
cregan only waved his hand and continued eating.
within half an hour, you and jacaerys were standing in front of the dragon. he was sleeping when they arrived, but a huge golden eye opened as they approached.
you froze as he examined you, but jacaerys held his arm steady at your back, “it’s alright, my lady. he’s – he won’t hurt you. he’s a gentle creature.”
you were so close you could feel the heat radiating off of him when vermax fully awoke, raising his head up.
you stumbled back, but jacaerys put himself in between you and the dragon, “ umbas , vermax.”
he helped you move closer, and whispered, “ lykiri . this is lady stark, vermax.”
the dragon huffed, almost like a petulant child, but when jace moved your hand to his snout, he didn’t object.
you laughed in amazement, “what did you say to him?”
“it’s high valyrian – umbas means ‘stay’, and lykiri means ‘calm’.”
“ lykiri ,” you whispered, running the tips of your fingers across his smooth scales, “how do you say hello?”
he smiled, reaching out to stroke the dragon, “ rytsas .”
“ rytsas, vermax,” the word was unfamiliar on your tongue, but vermax lowered his head. still awake, but clearly relaxed, “he’s beautiful.”
“he is,” jacaerys agreed, but he was watching you.
queen rhaenyra, true to her word, arrived the next day. once again, you bundled up in your finest furs to await her arrival. syrax’s entrance was grand, yellow scales glinting in the sunlight as the queen landed her. she was enormous, bigger than vermax, but seemed docile.
as your brother introduced you, she eyed you carefully. but, you held your head high, smiled brightly and curtsied as low as you could.
“the young lady stark is quite beautiful,” rhaenrya stated to her son, “have you had much chance to become acquainted?”
she was resting on a chair by the fireplace in her quarters, warming herself after the freezing ride to winterfell.
“a bit. i took her to meet vermax,” he sighed, leaning on the mantle, “i confess – i can scarcely speak to her. everytime i do, i make a fool of myself. i’m the prince of dragonstone, and i start stuttering like a child”
“oh my darling,” she smiled knowingly, “you have affections for her?”
he knew before he answered. everytime you smiled at him, it was like dragonfire warming his insides. your touch sent sparks down his arms, the way you moved when you danced entranced him. even vermax seemed to like you.
so, he nodded, blushing creeping up his neck.
“you must tell her then,” rhaenyra decided, leaning back in the chair, “you are the crown prince of the seven kingdoms, but i will give you leave to pursue your own choice in wife. and the lady stark would not be an unwelcome match.”
“what?” he furrowed his eyebrows.
rhaenyra sighed, “jace. if you like her, you must make your affections known. if you wish to marry her – you have my blessing. though i cannot speak for cregan stark, i believe it would be an excellent match.”
after begging his leave from his mother, jace nearly sprinted to your quarters. when he arrived, he found only a servant who informed him you were in the godswood. by the time he found his way through the labyrinth of trees, he was panting and sweating despite the cold.
you heard footsteps and looked up from the tome you were reading by the weirdwood in the center, “my – jace?” you stood as he approached you, “are you alright?”
he could scarcely breathe as he took your hands in his, “can i kiss you, my lady?”
you froze, mouth agape, searching his face. you tried to say yes, yes, please , but no sound would leave your throat. all you could do was nod and his lips were on yours. his hands moved to cup your face so tenderly, while yours curled in the fabric of his tunic. it was breathless and sweet and over all too soon.
jace was nearly gasping by the time he let you go, “i – my apologies. i ran here.” his hands moved to hold your waist.
“wh–,” you laughed, cupping his cheek, feeling the hard line of his jaw, “why did you do that?”
“i wanted to ask you to marry me,” he let out a nervous breath.
you froze once again. a pause.
“you don’t jest?” you whispered.
he shook his head vehemently, “no, no, never. i confess i have made a fool of myself time and again, but you – you are everything wonderful in this world. you are bold and tender and i completely adore you. please,” he breathed, “please, marry me.”
“yes,” you murmured, moving closer until your foreheads touched, “a thousandfold, yes.”
when his lips met yours again, you could feel him smile against them.