~129 A.C~

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

DRAGONSTONE. DAYS LATER.
The morning light filtered through the tall arched window, its golden rays stretching across the stone floor and creeping toward the bed. The warmth kissed Vellena's bare shoulder, but she merely turned onto her side, her dark lashes resting against her cheeks as she ignored the day's arrival.

She had not slept well.

Her mind had been restless, plagued with thoughts of war, of the choices before her, of a past that refused to die.

She exhaled softly, eyes still shut.

Then, something soft and puffy brushed against her cheek, followed by a small, wet nose nudging her.

A tiny tongue licked her nose.

A reluctant smile tugged at her lips.

Peeling open just one eye, she was met with a pair of curious golden-green eyes blinking at her. Mera sat on the pillow beside her, her small form of orange and black stripes standing out against the dark sheets.

On the other side, Berion, his white-snow fur kissed with faint yellow markings, gazed at her as if waiting to see if she would finally wake up.

"Alright, alright. I'm awake," she murmured opening her violet eyes and running her fingers through her silver hair.

Vellena let out a small chuckle, only for Mera to stumble back in alarm, her tiny paws flailing before she tumbled into the pillow behind her.

"Silly girl," Vellena murmured with amusement as she sat up, leaning against the headboard.

Mera and Berion wasted no time, climbing onto her legs and playfully batting at each other, their tiny tails flicking with excitement. Vellena simply watched them, letting the warmth of the morning and the comfort of her kittens ease her into wakefulness.

Then, a knock.

"Princess?" came a soft voice from the other side of the door. Lyra.

"You may enter," Vellena called.

The door creaked open, revealing her handmaiden, Lyra, stepping in with a gentle smile.

Lyra was no older than one-and-twenty, with long dirty blonde hair, sharp green eyes, and pale skin that looked as if it had never once seen the sun.

Her gaze landed on the kittens rolling over each other in Vellena's lap, and her smile widened.

"They are adorable," Lyra remarked fondly.

Vellena gave a small nod, her fingers stroking Berion's soft fur. "They are part of the family."

Lyra's smile deepened before she dipped into a small curtsy. "Shall I fetch some warm milk for them, Princess?"

"Yes, please."

With a nod, Lyra turned and disappeared through the door.

While she was away, Vellena stood and began preparing for the day.

She set Mera and Berion down gently, watching them as they hopped onto their crib beside her bed.

She moved to her wardrobe, pulling out her attire for the day—a black riding suit, its fine leather fitted to her shape, with silver embroidery trailing up the sleeves in the shape of dragon wings.

Then she walked to her vanity, fingers brushing over the carved wood as she sat before the polished mirror.

With expert hands, she braided two strands of hair back, weaving them into a loose knot at the base of her skull, while the rest of her long, silver strands cascaded freely down her back. A few shorter strands framed her face, softening her sharp features.

By the time she was finished, Lyra had returned, a small bowl in hand.

She poured the warm milk into the dish near Vellena's bed, watching fondly as Mera and Berion hurried over to lap it up.

Then, Lyra turned back to her princess, reaching into the pocket of her apron.

"Another raven from Oldtown."

Vellena froze.

The room felt smaller, quieter.

She stared at the rolled parchment in Lyra's hand, her breath catching in her throat.

Not again.

Swallowing hard, she forced herself to nod, taking it with steady fingers despite the way her stomach twisted.

"Thank you, Lyra. You may go."

Lyra hesitated, concern flickering across her face, but she simply curtsied and left.

As soon as the door shut, Vellena let out a slow, shaky breath.

She leaned against her wooden table, the morning sun warming her cheek as she closed her eyes for a brief moment, gathering herself.

Then, with trembling hands, she broke the seal and read.

Vellena,
I think I am losing my mind.

Oldtown suffocates me. The Hightower looms above me like a prison, and the gods do not answer when I pray. I can still hear Aegon's voice from when he sent the raven—his demand that I march with Lord Ormund and his army. That I bring my dragon, that I burn for him.

But I do not burn for Aegon.

I burn for you.

Every night, I dream of you. You are in my arms, whispering in that sharp, knowing way of yours, calling me a fool. Your lips are red like fire, your violet eyes gleam in the torchlight. I wake and reach for you—only to find my bed cold and drenched with sweat.

You haunt me. I cannot think, cannot focus. Even when I close my eyes, you are there.

The Seven help me, I do not know what I will do if I am made to march against you. If I see you across a battlefield, if I must fight you, I—

I cannot.

If there is any part of you that still holds our memories close, please, write to me. Even if it is only to curse my name.

I just need to hear from you.

Yours, always,
Daeron

Vellena's throat tightened.

Her hands trembled as she lowered the parchment, her breath shallow.

The ink still glistened in places, as if it had been written in a hurry, with too many thoughts crowding the writer's mind.

She swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as her vision blurred.

This was wrong.

Daeron could not write to her like this—not while he stood with Aegon, not while he wore green.

Not while they were at war.

Vellena pressed her lips together, her fingers gripping the parchment for a moment longer before she turned away, walking toward her vanity.

With a quiet, unsteady exhale, she set the letter down atop the polished wood.

It lay there, open, its words glaring back at her.

But she refused to read it again.

A soft sound broke the silence.

She turned her head, finding Mera and Berion curled in their crib, their small bodies nestled against each other, safe and content.

Vellena's expression softened.

For a fleeting moment, she allowed herself the smallest smile.

Then, squaring her shoulders, she turned and left her chambers—leaving Daeron's words behind.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The salt-tinged breeze rolled in from the sea, carrying with it the rhythmic crashing of the waves against the black sand. The sun hung high above the cliffs, its golden light shimmering against the dark waters.

Vellena stood on the beach, her silver hair caught in the wind, the strands whipping against her face, but she did not falter.

Her bow was steady in her grasp, the taut string pulled back, her violet eyes narrowed at the distant wooden target she had set upon the shore.

She exhaled.

Then let the arrow fly.

It struck near the center, but not quite where she wanted. A frustrated sigh left her lips as she reached for another arrow, trying to still her mind, trying to ignore the storm within her—one that no amount of training could silence.

Above, on the castle's stone balcony, Jace watched her.

His arms were leaned against the stone railing, his jaw tight as he observed every movement—the sharp focus in her gaze, the way her brows furrowed in concentration, the way the sunlight danced upon her silver hair.

She was beautiful. Infuriatingly so.

A soft voice behind him broke his thoughts.

"You love her."

Jace stiffened, his fingers curling around his forearm. He knew that voice.

Baela.

He turned his head slightly, not enough to meet her eyes. "I don't know what you mean."

Instead, she merely smiled knowingly.

Jace scoffed. "My little sister is insufferable."

Baela hummed in amusement. "Your little sister?"

Jace looked away, scowling. "She should have left with Rhaena. It would have been better for everyone."

At that, Baela sighed, thinking of her twin.

Jace noticed, his expression softening. He reached out, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "She'll be safe."

Baela gave him a small smile, appreciating the gesture. "I hope so." Then, straightening, she excused herself. "I should go see Moondancer."

Jace only nodded, watching as Baela walked off.

Once she was gone, he glanced one last time at Vellena.

Then, he turned and headed inside.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The corridors of Dragonstone were dimly lit, the torches along the walls flickering as Jace made his way toward his chambers.

As he approached, something caught his eye.

Vellena's door was slightly ajar.

He halted, his brows furrowing.

She was still outside—training on the beach. Had she left her door open for her kittens?

Jace knew he should not go inside.

But he did.

Carefully, he stepped into her room, his boots barely making a sound against the stone floor.

The first thing he noticed was the crib near the fireplace, where Mera and Berion lay curled together, their tiny forms rising and falling with each breath.

Jace's lips tugged into a soft smile.

Berion, sensing a presence, stirred, lifting his small head. His blue eyes blinked sleepily before fixing on Jace.

Slowly, Jace approached, reaching out to stroke the kitten's soft white fur.

A small purr rumbled in Berion's throat, accepting the touch.

Mera, however, remained deeply asleep, nestled against her brother.

Jace's brown eyes drifted past them, scanning the rest of the chamber.

It was unmistakably hers.

The tapestries on the walls were woven in rich black and silver, depicting dragons in flight. A small table near the window held a collection of books, some in High Valyrian, others filled with maps and fairytales, new ones burrowed from the library were about archery.

By the bedside, a silver comb lay atop a folded black riding cloak, as if she had placed it there the night before.

Jace's gaze flickered toward her vanity.

And then he saw it.

A parchment.

Curiosity stirred in his chest as he stepped closer, his fingers reaching for it.

His eyes scanned the words, his brows drawing together—until he reached the name at the bottom.

Daeron.

Jace froze.

The air in his lungs vanished.

His jaw clenched, his grip on the letter tightening as he reread it, each word sinking its claws into him.

"I burn for you.

Every night, I dream of you. You are in my arms, whispering in that sharp, knowing way of yours, calling me a fool. Your lips are red like fire, your violet eyes gleam in the torchlight. I wake and reach for you—only to find my bed cold and drenched with sweat.

You haunt me. I cannot think, cannot focus. Even when I close my eyes, you are there."

Jace's hand curled into a fist.

That Hightower bastard dared to write such words to her.

Dared to speak of her in that way.

Dreaming of her? Thinking of her? As if she belonged to him?

No.

Jace's mind filled with visions of Daeron's death.

He pictured the easiest—Daeron burning to ashes beneath his dragon's flame.

Too quick. Too merciful.

Then, another—capturing him, dragging him back to Dragonstone, slicing him in two from head to toe.

Still, not enough.

And then—

A darker thought.

One so sinful, so damnable, that it made his breeches tighten painfully.

Chaining Daeron. Poisoning him. Watching him suffer.

And as the poison did its work, he would claim Vellena in front of him.

In every way.

He would make sure Daeron heard her—heard her moans, her cries in High Valyrian, her begging—

Begging for him.

Only him.

Jace inhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling too fast, his blood burning beneath his skin.

He was losing control.

His grip tightened on the parchment.

A new thought struck him—a fear that made his rage spike even higher.

What if she writes back?

What if Vellena responds to him?

Jace would burn every parchment in this castle. He would slaughter every raven in the rookery if he had to.

Daeron would never have her.

Never.

His fingers crumpled the letter into a tight ball, his knuckles white.

Let Vellena notice.

Let her realize someone had been in her room.

He would tell her himself.

Blinded by his jealousy, by the possessive fire roaring inside him, Jace stormed out of her chamber, his boots echoing in the corridor.

The moment he reached his own door, he slammed it shut behind him—

A loud bang that rang through the stone halls.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The evening air was cool when Vellena finally returned to her chambers. She felt exhausted, her muscles sore from training, but the moment she stepped inside, a soft chorus of mewls greeted her.

She looked down to find Mera and Berion padding toward her on their small paws, their round eyes bright with anticipation.

A tired chuckle escaped her lips as she bent down, scooping Mera up with one hand while Berion brushed against her legs.

"Have you two been waiting for me?" she murmured, rubbing behind Mera's ears as the kitten purred contentedly.

Setting Mera down, she crossed the room and began changing into her nightgown, the soft black fabric slipping over her skin. She reached for her silver braid, her fingers deftly undoing it, allowing her hair to fall in waves over her shoulders.

Then, her gaze drifted to her vanity.

The raven.

A heaviness settled in her chest as she stepped closer, her fingers hovering over the parchment. She scanned Daeron's words again, her lips pressing into a thin line.

He had no right.

No right to write to her like this.

With a sharp inhale, she sat down at her writing desk, her quill poised above a fresh parchment.

"Do not write to me again.

You speak of dreams, of longing, as if such things still hold meaning. As if we are not at war. As if your brother did not kill mine.

I curse your name, Daeron. I curse your house, your blood, your gods.

I curse the moment you first looked at me.
You say you cannot think of anything but me.

Then let me free you.
Forget me.

Because I will never forgive you or your family"

Vellena's hand trembled as she finished the final stroke of ink.

Her chest heaved, her breath coming in shallow gasps as her vision blurred with unshed tears.

Damn him.

Damn him for making her feel like this.

With a sharp sniff, she blinked rapidly, forcing her emotions down.

She set the quill aside, reaching for Daeron's raven one last time.

And then—

Her body went rigid.

The parchment was wrinkled.

Vellena's breath caught, her fingers tightening over the letter as a cold fear crept up her spine.

Someone had touched it.

Someone had been in her chambers.

Slowly, she swallowed, willing herself to stay calm.

Who?

Her mind raced through possibilities—her handmaid, one of the guards, the maester?

No.

None of them would dare.

Only one person had the audacity.

Her stomach twisted as she forced herself to move, folding her own letter carefully, pressing her house sigil against the wax to seal it.

She would take this to the rookery herself.

No one would know she was writing to the enemy.

Draping a robe over her shoulders, she took a candle and stepped into the dim corridors of Dragonstone.

Her slippers barely made a sound against the cold stone as she descended the winding stairs, the flickering light casting long shadows against the walls.

The journey felt endless, every turn making her more paranoid that she was being followed.

When she finally reached the rookery, the scent of bird droppings and old parchment filled her nose.

She approached a black-feathered raven, her fingers trembling only slightly as she tied her letter to its leg.

Her violet eyes watched it carefully, her heart pounding as she carried the bird to the open window.

With a final deep breath, she released it into the night.

She stood there, watching as the raven disappeared into the darkness, carrying her words away.

Away from Dragonstone.

Away from prying eyes.

Or so she hoped.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The stone halls were quiet, save for the faint flickering of torches casting shifting shadows along the walls. Vellena descended the stairs, her robe drawn tightly around her, the chill of the night clinging to her skin.

She had done what she needed to do. Daeron's raven was gone. No one would know. No one would suspect—

A voice cut through the darkness.

"Where have you been at this hour? Alone?"

Vellena's breath caught in her throat as she looked up.

Jacaerys stood against the wall before her, his arms crossed, his dark brown eyes aflame with something dangerous. The torchlight cast harsh shadows over his face, accentuating the sharp line of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders.

She swallowed and forced herself to meet his gaze, refusing to let him see her unease.

"That does not concern you."

Jace's jaw tightened, his nostrils flaring as he pushed off the wall, closing the distance between them in an instant. His voice was low, threatening, as he whispered through gritted teeth:

"Is it not my concern that you exchange letters with Prince Daeron?"

Vellena froze.

Her breath faltered, her fingers curling around the fabric of her robe. He knew. He was the one to look through her chamber after all, even if she hoped he wasn't.

Slowly, she tore her gaze from his, her voice barely above a whisper.

"He is my betrothed."

Jace let out a short, humorless laugh, though there was no amusement in his face—only anger, simmering just beneath the surface, ready to spill over.

"Fucking betrothed."

The words were spat out like venom.

"That betrothal was long gone when his brother killed ours."

Vellena's throat felt tight, but she forced herself to stand tall, to meet him with defiance. Jace had no right. No right to invade her chambers, to read her letters, to scold her like she was a foolish girl.

She lifted her chin, her violet eyes flashing.

"Maybe it's not. Maybe I love him, and I want to marry him. Maybe he will come here, and we will wed on the cliffs in the tradition of Old Valyria."

She was breathing heavily now, her heart pounding against her ribs.

Jace's entire body went rigid.

Something in his expression shifted, his fury turning into something darker, more primal.

He took a slow, deliberate step forward.

Then another.

Until he was so close, she could feel the warmth of his breath against her lips.

His gaze traveled over her face, lingering on her parted lips, on the flush of her cheeks.

And then, in a low, deadly whisper, he spoke:

"I give you three options."

Vellena's breath hitched.

"One... If I meet him in battle, I burn him. Which is too merciful."

Jace's fingers brushed against her wrist, the touch featherlight, but she could feel the tension coiling beneath his skin.

"Two, I slice him in two, from head to toe."

Her pulse hammered in her throat.

And then, his voice dropped even lower, almost mocking, almost sinful.

"Three. Oh, and I love this one."

He leaned in, so close, their foreheads nearly touching.

"I chain him. Poison him. And while the poison makes its work, I fuck you in every way possible on the ground right in front of him. While you keep moaning and screaming my name in Valyrian, hāedar."

Vellena's breath left her body.

Her thighs pressed together beneath her nightgown, her pulse wild and frantic.

She could barely breathe, barely think, his presence consuming her, drowning her.

Jace's lips brushed against hers—not a kiss, not yet, but a warning, a temptation.

"Which one will it be, haedar?"

His forehead pressed against hers, and she found herself leaning into him, her fingers trembling at her sides.

She should have pushed him away.

She should have spoken, cursed him, denied him.

But she did none of those things.

Instead, her hands lifted, wrapping around his neck as she crushed her lips against his.

The kiss was desperate, searing, punishing, and Jace groaned against her mouth, his hands gripping her waist, pulling her against him.

Vellena didn't care about right or wrong, about war or duty or blood.

She only knew this—him.

Jace's hands slid down, gripping her thighs as he lifted her effortlessly, pressing her back against the cold stone wall.

She gasped into his mouth, her legs wrapping around his waist, her robe falling open as his fingers brushed against her bare skin.

They broke apart, their breaths mingling, their foreheads still touching.

"Jace..." she whispered, her voice shaking.

His grip tightened, his thumb tracing her lower lip as he smirked darkly.

"Vellena..." he whispered back.

She swallowed, her nails digging into his shoulders, her body burning with something forbidden.

And then, in a breathless, shaky confession—

"I want you—"

Jace's finger traced her lips, silencing her.

His other hand slid up her leg, disappearing beneath her nightgown, making her moan softly against his touch.

Jace's eyes darkened, his smirk widening.

‼️smut warning‼️
Jace's grip was unyielding as he carried her through the dimly lit corridor, his steps sure, determined. Vellena's breath came in shaky gasps, her arms locked around his broad shoulders, her heart hammering in her chest. She could barely think—barely breathe—only feel.

The cool night air from the castle's open windows kissed her fevered skin, contrasting the burning heat of him pressing against her.

Then—stone met her back.

Jace laid her down upon the stairwell, his hands never leaving her, his body settling between her parted thighs. The hard stone beneath her was cold, but it did not matter—not when Jace hovered over her like this, his breath hot against her lips, his brown eyes nearly black with hunger.

Vellena's fingers tangled into the dark curls at the nape of his neck, pulling him down as their lips met again, the kiss deep, desperate, devouring. He groaned against her mouth, his weight pressing down, his hands roaming—claiming.

Then he broke away, his lips tracing a path from her jawline down the curve of her neck.

Vellena gasped, arching beneath him as his mouth found the sensitive spot just below her ear, sucking gently, his tongue soothing the bite of his teeth.

Her nails dug into his shoulders, the thin fabric of his tunic doing little to stop the sensation of his heat, his strength, his power.

His hands moved lower, fisting the fabric of her nightgown, pushing the silk higher, past her thighs, until her bare legs were free beneath him.

"You know someone could hear us..." she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jace exhaled sharply, his fingers trailing up her thighs, reverent and possessive all at once.

"That's why you have to be quiet, my sweet" he murmured against her throat, his voice hoarse, laced with something darker, more dangerous.

Vellena's breath hitched as his hands continued their slow, torturous path, his touch setting her skin aflame.

She knew she should stop this.

Knew this was madness, sin, betrayal.

But when Jace's lips found the hollow of her collarbone, when his hands gripped her thighs, spreading them wider beneath him, she realized—

She never wanted him to stop.

He kissed down her body, cursing the thin fabric of her nightgown before he reached her lower body. He kneeled down on the last stair hooking her legs over his shoulders as the fabric of her nightgown slid down her flat stomach revealing her sweet delicious cunt.

"Fucking Gods, hāedar" he murmured lowering his head between her thighs. "Ao issi sīr lōz" (You are so wet)

Vellena bit down on her lower lip, hard—too hard. The sharp taste of copper bloomed on her tongue, but it was nothing compared to the devastating pleasure pooling in her stomach.

A desperate whimper threatened to spill from her lips, and she barely smothered it with her own trembling hand, her fingers pressing against her mouth as her body arched, desperate, wanting.

She could not make a sound.

She could not.

Their mother's chambers were only down the corridor. If she made a noise—if someone heard—

The thrill of it, the sheer forbidden madness, made everything so much worse.

Jace knew.

She could feel it in the way his fingers flexed against her thighs, the way his lips lingered, his mouth curving in a wicked smirk against her fevered skin.

As his tongue slipped between her delicate wet folds, Vellena sobbed into her palm, her body clenching, trembling, unraveling.

His tongue swirled around her clit in a steady pace, Vellena felt tears treating in the corner of her eyes as she whined against her palm.

Her free hand fisted in his hair, her nails scraping against his scalp, as he ruined her completely—slowly, thoroughly, relentlessly.

The heat, the ache, the unbearable, all-consuming need—

Vellena bit down on her own fingers, silencing her cry, her body shaking with the force of it, her vision blurring with pleasure so intense it was nearly pain.

Jace had always known madness ran in their blood.

He felt it now—pulsing, burning, consuming him whole—as he watched Vellena writhe beneath his touch, her thighs trembling around his shoulders, her soft, desperate little sounds muffled by her own hand.

She was trying to be quiet.

Trying so hard.

And it amused him to no end.

He had told her to keep quiet, but the way she tried and failed was hilarious. She cared if someone found them, he didn't. He wanted everyone to know that she was making all this sounds only for him, that her body arch, shudder and beg against his tongue.

She was his.

His.

His jaw clenched, his hands gripping her thighs harder as the memory of that fucking letter flashed in his mind.

Daeron.

His uncle.

Her betrothed.

Jace nearly snarled against her skin. The very thought of that boy—so far away, yet daring to dream of her, to long for her, to send her letters filled with meaningless, desperate words—made something dark coil, twist, snap inside him.

She was not Daeron's.

She had never been Daeron's.

She was here—beneath him, panting for him, trembling for him, breaking for him.

Jace's grip tightened, his nails digging into the soft flesh of her thighs, his mouth working faster, more ruthless, relentless, possessive.

He began to lap harder, his tongue licking lower, Vellena felt tears rolling down her cheeks as he teased her opening. It was so good, her vision blurred as she tilted her head backwards and moaned in her hand, but she couldn't control herself.

Vellena gasped, her body arching—then she bit down on her lip so hard that Jace nearly groaned at the sight of it, at the little drop of red beading on her swollen lips.

She was so desperate to keep quiet.

And gods, he wanted to break her.

He wanted to wreck her, to push her to the very edge of madness, to make her forget her own name—until there was nothing left but his name on her lips, nothing left but his touch on her skin, his fire in her blood, his claim on her soul.

Let Daeron dream of her.

That was all he would ever have.

Dreams.

Jace had her here, now, under him, helpless, writhing, drowning in pleasure she could never find anywhere else.

His.

His.

His.

He licked his way back up to her clit, closing his lips around her pearl and sucking at it hard, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin.

Vellena had been so determined to keep quiet.

But when Jace lifted his gaze to hers—dark, burning, utterly relentless—a broken moan tore from her lips before she could stop it.

His grip on her tightened.

His pace did not falter.

If anything, he only grew hungrier, rougher, faster—as if her surrender had unleashed something in him, something wild and dangerous that had been waiting to snap.

Her hands clawed at the stone beneath her, her breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps as she desperately fought to hold back another sound.

But Jace saw.

He saw everything.

The way her body tensed and trembled, the way her thighs quivered in his grasp, the way her lips parted—red, swollen, trembling from how hard she had bitten them.

And when her gaze met his again—

Gods.

She looked wrecked.

Her violet eyes were heavy, dazed, glassy, her pupils blown so wide he could barely see their color. Desperate. Needy.

Jace had never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life.

And then—gods, then—she moaned again.

"Jacaerys"

Soft. Ruined. His name barely a breath on her tongue.

Jace nearly lost himself right then and there, his breeches impossibly tight but he ignored it.

She bit her lip harder, a whimper spilling past her throat.

Jace hummed against her skin, his gaze never leaving hers.

"Say it again," his eyes demanded.

Vellena shook her head weakly, her chest rising and falling too fast.

But her body betrayed her.

Her back arched, her fingers tangled in his hair, her legs tensed around his shoulders—and when Jace didn't stop, didn't slow, didn't let her hide from him—

She gasped.

Vellena tried—gods, she tried—to hold back.

But Jace was relentless.

His hands, his mouth, the wicked heat of his gaze on her as he devoured her—it was too much. Too much, too much, too much.

And then she shattered.

Her head threw back against the stone, her spine arching like a bowstring pulled too tight, a silent scream on her lips as waves of white-hot pleasure ripped through her body.

Jace groaned, gripping her thighs tighter as he felt it—the way she trembled, clenched, unraveled completely beneath him.

He should stop. He should.

But he didn't.

He couldn't.

He held her down, tasting every last drop of her release, losing himself in the ruin of her, in the way she had fallen apart just for him.

Gods, he was losing his mind.

When he finally pulled away, his breath was ragged, his chest heaving as he dragged himself up, up, up, until he was over her, his arms braced on either side of her head.

Vellena lay beneath him, breathless, dazed, wrecked, her silver hair spread around her like molten starlight, her skin flushed, her lips kiss-bruised and trembling.

She brought her shaky hand up caressing his cheek softly as her gentle gaze traveled across his face.

Jace swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he took her in—the soft rise and fall of her chest, the helpless flutter of her lashes, the way she looked at him now, trusting, vulnerable, utterly his.

He wanted her.

Gods, he wanted her.

More than anything, more than breath, more than life.

He could have her. Right now, right here.

He could drag up her skirts, rip away the last barrier between them, sink himself inside her and make her his forever.

No betrothals. No ravens from Oldtown. No Daeron.

Just him. Just her.

Just Jacaerys and Vellena, tangled in the dark, bound together in a way no war or crown could undo.

His fingers curled into fists against the stone.

But he couldn't.

She was pure, untouched, innocent in a way he had never been.

She was his salvation, his light, his only tether to whatever was left of his soul.

And he was a monster. He had become one after Luke died. He had to become one, because war was not for weak or angels.

Twisted. Possessive. Ruined.

He could not stain her with his hands. With the beast inside him.

With himself.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

Jace stood up from where he had been hovering over her, his hands shaking slightly as he looked down at Vellena. His breath was still ragged, his mind a whirlwind of emotions he couldn't process. The cold stone beneath his feet felt like a grounding force, and yet it did nothing to calm the chaos inside him.

Without another word, without a glance back, he turned and walked away.

Vellena... The name haunted him in the silence of the empty corridor as he made his way back to his chambers. His heart hammered in his chest, each step a slow, heavy weight pressing down on him.

He left her there. Alone.

Her figure, crumpled against the cold stone stairs, was burned into his memory, yet he couldn't stop himself. The desire to walk away was overpowering, the fear that if he stayed any longer, he would break whatever was left of them both.

He reached his door and slammed it shut behind him, the sound echoing through the silence.

Vellena lay against the stone steps, her body trembling. Her breaths came in short, uneven gasps, and the weight of what had just happened crashed down on her. She had let him in once again. She had let herself believe that something—anything—between them could be real, could be more than just this for one single moment. But now, now she was alone, just as she had always been.

Her heart twisted in her chest as the tears began to form, slow at first, then building, until they spilled over, the hot tears staining her cheeks. She wiped them away roughly, angry at herself for letting him in again—angry for believing the lies he fed her.

He used me again. The thought was suffocating, yet it held the truth she couldn't deny.

He used her just like he did at Luke's funeral, he used her then to stain his memory and now he used her because? But she knew deep down and it made her heart break, for his sinful desires.

She pressed her hand to her chest as if to hold herself together, but the ache was deep—too deep. She could feel herself unraveling with each breath. She felt like a shadow of herself, lost, uncertain of who she even was anymore.

Why did he do it? Why couldn't he just leave me be? Her thoughts were frantic, desperate for answers she knew she would never get.

Vellena shifted, sliding her nightgown down her legs and pulling her robe tighter around her trembling form as she slowly stood, her legs weak beneath her. She couldn't stay here. Not like this.

The tears continued to fall as she made her way back to her chambers, each step heavier than the last, the weight of Jace's actions, his absence, pressing down on her like a storm she couldn't escape.

And so, she walked on, her heart fractured and bleeding, the echoes of the night lingering in the darkness.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

Vellena shut the door behind her with a quiet, trembling click. The room felt suffocating, the air thick with everything that had happened, everything she had tried to push away and hide from herself. She barely registered the soft, familiar weight of Mera and Berion jumping onto the bed as she sank onto the edge, the tears spilling freely now, unchecked.

Her hands clenched the sheets beneath her, the fabric crumpling in her fists, her breath coming in ragged sobs. She wanted to scream, to break something, anything, but the pain inside her chest—the ache of being used, of being abandoned again—kept her silent.

Why did I let him? Her mind screamed at her as the tears poured down her face. Why did I let him in again?

She buried her face in her hands, her body shaking violently. There was so much confusion, so much anger at herself. She had promised herself she wouldn't let it happen again. That she wouldn't let herself fall into the trap of him—his words, his touch, his presence that always seemed to find its way under her skin. But now, here she was again, lost in the wreckage of her own decisions, her heart shattered into a million jagged pieces.

Mera, sensing her distress, padded gently to her side, rubbing her head against Vellena's leg, but it did little to soothe her. The ache, the betrayal, was too great.

Across her chambers, Jace, pacing furiously, raked a hand through his disheveled hair. His chest was tight, his body coiled with a mixture of frustration and rage he couldn't quite control.

I'm a fool. The thought consumed him. He punched the stone wall, the impact ringing out in the empty room as he drew in a sharp breath, trying to steady himself. What the Seven Hells did I do?

His pulse was racing, his emotions all over the place. He wanted to go back, wanted to take it all back, but the words and the anger had been too much. The jealousy, the madness that had clouded his judgment—he'd allowed it to overtake him. He had gone too far, said things that couldn't be unsaid, done things that couldn't be undone.

And for what?

To push her away. Again.

He cursed under his breath, raking his hand through his hair again, the ache of his frustration gnawing at him. He knew what he had done was wrong. He knew it in his gut. But the thing that had twisted inside of him, the need to possess her, to have her only for himself—he couldn't silence it. And now he was alone in his room, with nothing but the consequences of his actions to face.

His fist clenched again as he stared out the window, the moonlight casting a silver light over the landscape. The silence in the room was deafening, but it was nothing compared to the silence between him and her.

What the fuck am I doing? he thought, pacing again, his anger mingling with the guilt. I'm so godsdamn stupid.

He couldn't shake the image of her, of how she had looked at him, how her body had trembled under his touch. The memory made his chest ache in a way that felt almost unbearable. And in the end he had ruined everything.

And worse, he didn't know how to fix it. How could he? When he couldn't even control the madness inside him, the jealousy that had consumed him and driven him to hurt her again?

I'm never going to have her, am I? The thought gnawed at him. His own self-loathing took root deeper in his mind. He wanted to have her, needed her, but every step he took just pushed her further away.

He couldn't stop thinking about her, though, about the way she felt beneath him, the way she had trembled, the way she had kissed him. The guilt twisted his gut even more, and he collapsed onto the edge of his bed, his head in his hands.

I can't do this.

He had crossed another line tonight, and now he had no idea how to take it back.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

JACE IS A BIT MENTAL THIS CHAPTER 😭 BUT HE WILL COME TO HIS SENSES IN THE END🙈