Targaryens are known to have queer costumes, an unusual tradition in which the brother and sister wed each other in order to secure the line of succession as pure as possible. Well, it is not always the Targaryens that have such habits, who says tha...
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~129 A.C~
·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·
DRAGONSTONE The light of the sun filtered warmly through the windows of Prince Jacaerys's chamber, casting soft golden rays across the stone floor and up onto the bed where two figures were curled together in a tangle of limbs and silk sheets.
Vellena stirred slowly, lashes fluttering open as her body shifted beneath the soft weight of the covers. She blinked against the light, and the first thing she saw was Jace—already awake, propped up on one elbow, watching her quietly.
His calloused fingertips were brushing tenderly against her bare shoulder, tracing lazy circles along her skin. There was something soft, reverent, in his gaze—as if he still couldn't believe she was real, right there beside him.
"Good morning," he whispered, voice hoarse and low, the rasp of sleep still in it.
Vellena groaned softly, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. "Mmm... what time is it?"
Jace glanced over his shoulder toward the window, where the sun was blazing high over Dragonstone's jagged cliffs. He turned back to her, his curls a little wild, golden light casting a soft glow over his skin. "Judging by that sun? Probably noon."
Vellena let out a sleepy sigh and stretched her arms above her head, the blanket slipping slightly off her shoulders. "Hells," she muttered, stretching like a cat, her hair spread out over the pillow. "We missed breakfast."
Jace smiled, entirely smitten, eyes drinking her in. "My wife is adorable."
Vellena peeked at him from beneath a half-lowered lid, one brow raised. "Who's this wife you speak of?"
He grinned. "She's the most beautiful woman in Westeros," he began, shifting closer as he teased, "has a very weird addiction to books... and cats."
She gave his arm a soft slap at the cat comment, making him laugh.
"And," he added, catching her hand before she could withdraw it, "she is the light of my life."
Vellena's playful smile softened into something far gentler as she reached up to touch his cheek, her fingers brushing through his dark curls. He took her hand in his, opening his palm so hers rested flush against it.
They both looked up at their hands—his larger and calloused, hers soft and elegant—as the sunlight poured in behind them, gilding the scene in quiet gold.
When Jace looked back at her, his eyes full of warmth and that familiar fire, he leaned in slowly. She met him halfway with a giggle, wrapping her arms around his neck as their lips met in a kiss—deep and slow, with the taste of morning and promises yet to come.
There was no rush. Only them.
Jace's lips pressed firmly against hers, his teeth gently catching her bottom lip in a slow, teasing bite. His breath mingled with hers as he whispered softly against her mouth, "Remember what I told you last night... about how you won't be able to walk normally every morning from now on?"
