Sweet Boy - UndyDala - House of the Dragon (TV) [Archive of Our Own] (2024)

When Jacaerys lost Luke, it was as if part of his soul died with him. His sweet gentle baby brother, devoured by his uncles dragon.

Before Luke died it was Visenya, his stillborn sister. Before her was Grandsire Viserys. Each death had chipped at his sanity, each loss a snap of his heart strings. Daemons murder of the boy Jaehaerys, resulting in the assassin sent to murder his Mother.

He had barely begun to mourn his brother’s death before the chain of events occurred, his family on the precipice of war- and now. Now the Queen is missing.

“Where is she?”, he is brusque in his approach. Nerves frayed, brown eyes steeled.

The woman in question raised one dark brow, slender face frowning.

“”I’m not quite sure who you speak of, my Prince”

The Queen. Where is she”, He grits out.

The Whiteworm casts a wary glance towards him from the tome she’d been reading.

“She wished to speak with the Dowager in private. I merely arranged safe passageway and a disguise —“

The loud slam startled her, the Crown Princes enclosed fist rattling quills and inks, scattering scrolls across the desk the Mistress of Whispers occupied. Jacaerys wore a thunderous expression, although a glint of fear was obvious in his frantic eyes. The fear of losing another loved one so soon. Of losing his Mother .

“You’ve willingly let her go into the vipers nest? mayhaps your intentions aren’t so pure” He growls before ripping himself away from the desk, almost pacing the library.

The Lyseni woman only stood and observed the young man. She could empathise - the feeling of helplessness in a situation beyond your control was only something she’d felt one too many a time. There was nothing she could tell him to assuage his fears except the truth.

She lightly clears her throat.

“I have been in servitude to powerful people my whole life” she began carefully, walking towards the mosaic window to look beyond Dragonstone’s rocky shores.

“Most have been men of power. Rarely ever do we see a woman in power.”

The silence is almost stifling, his stare doubtful.

“Maybe her efforts are in vain, Prince. Mayhaps it is all for naught. After all whats to stop a war of kin, when blood has been drawn? When banners are raised?”, she turns back to face him, hands folded demurely at her front.

A look of resolution, of faith. And softly, almost quietly she says, “Thousands will die. Blood will flow in rivers. The Queen cared enough to try avert it, risking her life. To a commoner like me, that makes all the difference in a ruler.”

There is a contemplative almost mournful air, anxieties unspoken of what’s to come. Things yet to happen.

The draft of her passing figure and the sound of retreating steps are all he hears, left to stew in his thoughts.

It was the following night during the hour of the Bat when Queen Rhaenyra returned to the stony shores of Dragonstone. The wooden dingy being rocked harshly by the breaking of surf, as her guardsman struggled to steer straight with the rickety paddles and obscuring darkness.

And when they’d finally made landfall after 48 hours on a ship, Rhaenyra felt a slight relief despite the sea legs she now suffers. It felt like she’d just taken her first breath since leaving Kings Landing, a big inhale of cold salty air refreshing to her lungs.

Being in the Capital disguised as a Septa of all things, in the city SHE is meant to be ruling - well, it’s a humbling experience. She thinks herself a scurrying rat beneath the floorboards, trying to avoid a war of dragons despite knowing deep down, it’s too late .

It’s too late, Rhaenyra’

‘There has been no mistake’

She had been a fool. A hopeful, naive fool. She did not achieve anything with Alicent, but she gained closure. Closure that in the end her Father did not betray her. Closure that truly burns the bridges of old friendship. Clarity on what must now be done.

One burden is replaced with another, as the steps climbed become increasingly difficult. Heavy with the choices she must now make, and what that could mean for everyone. Each pondered thought making the Queen tired. She had not had a proper sleep in days.

The guards posted outside open the large gates revealing the pathway to the Castle.

When she is finally inside it is warmth that greets her, the corridors ambient interior of flickering candlelight and black stonewalls filled with Targaryen heraldry. After thanking and dismissing her guard, she is quick to arrive at her chambers; pleasantly surprised to see a brass bathtub all ready filled with milky steaming lavender scented water.


Gods bless Elinda, sweet girl.

Sinking into the warm water has the Queen exhaling slowly, sore muscles melting, pores scrubbed clean of Kings Landing grime leaving pink, gleaming skin in its wake. Dunking her head beneath the waters as she begins the process of thoroughly washing her hair twice, afterwards conditioning using her favoured lavender oils and lotions. She runs her wooden wide toothed comb through her slick silver hair, detangling her long strands while humming an old Valyrian lullaby she used to soothe her sons as babes.

The water is cold by the time she is out of the tub, dried and wearing her sheer night gown. She is sitting in front of the hearth staring into its flames, simply existing in the quiet of midnight.

She is surprised out of her reverie when there is a knock at her door.

“Enter”, she calls curiously.

When Jacaerys heard the affirmative, he’d opened the chamber door and stepped in. His Mothers rooms were well heated despite the cold night, the roaring fire providing a comforting setting. He’d told the guards to wake him as soon as the Queen returned from her little expedition; and they had. He had jumped up from his bed stalking his way to the Sea Dragon tower despite his half wakened state and rumpled tunic.

Rhaenyra is resplendent in the warm glow of the fireplace, in her soft smile, as pale lilac eyes watch him enter the chamber.

“Jace”, is her gentle call as she gestures for him to sit on the chair opposite her. Seeing her now, he feels like he can breathe finally. The anticipation of her return left him restless, sleeping fitfully at night. He is relieved as his eyes gaze over her for any wounds, and finds that she is well. She is home, safe and whole.


He ignores the sheerness of her gown and the gentle outline of her soft curves highlighted by the fireplace, her damp silver hair and how gorgeous it makes her look… wrong wrong wrong

In his relief comes anger. Worry. Frustration. And she must see that, because her gentle smile falls.

Jacaerys slowly walks forward and sits himself in the seat across from his Mother. The warmth of the hearth seeming to enflame his all ready frayed nerves as he stares into her Lilac eyes with his chestnut browns.

“I- we have been worried”, he starts tensely, voice still raspy from sleep. He turns to look into the fire, clenching and unclenching his jaw. Brow furrowed. His anger at her is palpable.

Rhaenyra for her part sighs, “it had to be done. What kind of Queen would I be if I didn’t at-least try, Jacaerys. Please understand—“ He scoffs straight away, abruptly pushing himself into a stand as he goes to pace in front of the fire place. He is breathing heavily, a measure needed to keep from throwing everything at her all at once.

“Why did you not think to tell me? Do you trust me so little as to not warn me of your plans?!”, He is brash and unyielding, “Mother? Do you not trust me?”

His imploring tone breaks her and her breath stutters in her chest. She can only watch as he resumes pacing at her stunned silence.

“After e-everything they’ve done, you still held out hope? After the death of my sister and brother? After they sent an assassin after you?”, with each incredulous question, she feels a pinch in her heart. And with each question, his agitation and volume rises.

While he knew she meant well with her intentions, he couldn’t help but feel… betrayed, overlooked in some way. The slander he and Lucerys suffered in life was because of the Green Queen. Everything they currently deal with is because of the Greens. His brother was slain by the Greens. Why continue to make the effort; when one side had blatantly declared war?

“Jacaerys please, I cannot do this right now”, she whispers, massaging her temple. “I know now I was wrong and that nothing could’ve been avoided. Intervention was not an option. I’ve tried everything in my power and it was not enough.”

His gaze hardens. “And what of your safety? It was a foolish thing to do. Had you been captured and killed? What then?”


Rhaenyra narrows her eyes. “It is not your job to chastise me Jacaerys, I am a grown woman. A Mother.
Your Mother. You might not understand it but I risked what I did for the good of our Family”

“Yes you’re my Mother, and you left nonetheless. Without telling me. Anything could’ve happened and I wouldn’t know”, he whispers anguished. The thought of her not making it back…

The Black Queen finally snaps. Driven by guilt, anger at feeling backed into a corner, anger at knowing deep down, everything he says is true .

“I do not need your approval on my decisions, I am meant to be protecting you and THAT is what I was trying to do!”, she near shouts.

“I am your son and HEIR - you are our Queen. If you die, who are we fighting for? What is the purpose in all of this if you are gone?!”, he chokes out. Frustrated tears fill his eyes but anger very clearly takes over.

“If I died then you would be King, as is your birthright. When I die, all that I am passes to you. That is what we fight for”, she tries to say calmly despite her rapidly beating heart.

“I DONT WANT YOU TO DIE, I JUST WANT YOU TO BE CAREFUL”, he shouts brokenly. Angry that she’d talk about such a thing. That she’d even think about leaving him alone.

He turns sharply to face the wall, he wants to hide. Hide away from everything, from the war. He wants to hide his Brothers, Rhaena and Baela, his Mother. He wishes he could wrap them in a warm cocoon where he can always keep them safe from the world. No harm would ever befall them that way. The greens would never find them.

Jacaerys finally allows his tears he’d been trying so hard to keep at bay, to spill over. There is a beat of tense silence. He cannot see her face but he doesn’t think he’d want to, scared of what he’d find should he look.

While trying to collect himself, he barely hears the shifting of fabric and gentle footfalls until she’s right next to him. Her soft hand gently cradles the crook of his arm, and she looks up at him sadly. Eyes wide and wet as she sees how affected her precious boy is.

“Nothing in the Seven Hells could take me away from you and your Brothers, my love. I am not going anywhere without a fight.”

And before he knows it he is falling apart in his Mothers comforting embrace, the Queen cooing into his hair as he buries his face into her neck. She smells of lavender and honeycomb, her dried silver tresses soft against his cheek. He breathes her scent in deeply, gentle hiccuping sobs wracking his taller broader frame as they sit crumpled on the floor together.

Rhaenyra gently takes his chin in her hand and lifts his teary face to meet her reddened gaze, studying him intently. He has her eye shape she notices, his aquiline nose, facial structure and fair skin is all her. She sees Harwin in the bow of his lips, his deep set chocolate browns and unruly tousled curls that fall into his eyes. Her son, her beautiful son, is so handsome. Much like his biological Father, mixed with his Valyrian heritage. The red flush of his skin coupled with the glow of the fire beside them makes the look all the more appealing.

Its wrong. So wrong. The pull is there but it is wrong to want it.

Jacaerys battled internally. Rhaenyra was gazing down at him, eyes full of sadness and something else… something usually directed at Daemon. A heat, simmering and smouldering. He wants to bask in the heat of her all encompassing violet gaze, warm and sinuous.

Jacaerys finally decides for them, pressing his lips against hers.

This is wrong. wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong

She quietly gasps, tentative, before pressing back against his soft lips. Slow at first, becoming increasingly passionate in lip lock. She runs her fingers through dark thick curls as he has both arms encircled around her waist. His tongue enters a sensual dance with hers and he groans hotly into her mouth.

Muña,” he murmurs roughly, quietly into her ear and she shivers. The heat coiling in her belly at her sweet boys whispered encouragements, the gathering wetness at the junction of her thighs as he glides his palm over her covered breasts making her nipples harden into peaks.

Wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong

“My sweet love, my baby boy”, she whispers longingly into his hair, as he is slowly ghosting his lips over her exposed neck and collarbones.

His hold on her waist tightens, and Rhaenyra gasps in shock when she is hoisted off the ground and immediately wraps her legs around her son’s hips, arms quickly encircling Jacaerys’ neck. He chuckles warmly at her surprise as he holds her by her pale milky thighs.

She has half a mind to reprimand him for his actions, before he leans in again and kisses her harder, licking and sucking at her pouty lips as he inches his hands to squeeze and paw at her ass. Jacaerys carries her to the middle of the bed, gently laying her back as he follows her down continuing their passionate make out session.

His Mother. His beautiful Mother who’d lost so much, lay beneath him; looking at him with tender love and lust, the way a woman gazes at a man. It’s wrong he knows, but how can something so wrong feel so right? Perhaps Targaryens truly are queer.

Her small sighs of pleasure shoot straight to his co*ck hardening within his breeches, his need for her mounting, and he is slowly grinding against her.

“I need you my Queen”, he whispers into her panting mouth, pinching at her covered nipple, rolling it between thumb and forefinger flicking the teat back and forth. She moans loudly as his hot mouth suckles on her teat through the material, a surge of pleasure coursing in her blood as her son’s tongue and teeth wrap around her, nipping at her. She squirms as he holds intense eye contact all the while every pulsing suck through the wet fabric throbbing in time with her slick centre.

Gods, she can’t remember ever being this wet or turned on in how long. (let alone by her own son.)

Jacaerys becomes impatient with the nightdress his Mother still has on, teasing him with a delectable view beneath the dress. She is splayed beneath him as a silver haired vision, flushed cheeks and kiss swollen lips, panting as he slowly unbuttons the front of her see through shift pulling it off towards her hips.

Slowly uncovering her chest and arms to his hungry gaze, the unveiling of her skin makes him lean forward to press reverent small pecks above her eye lids, forehead, nose and chin, before pressing a slow sensual kiss to her lips. She soaked up his attention with gusto, humming low in her throat as he laved his tongue over her teats. Playing, nipping and suckling.

“Mm, you used to feed at my breast as an infant - I never let any wet nurses feed you. You were mine to feed. My baby boy only”, she breathed out, an adoring look in her eye as she played with his pretty curls, moaning softly when he’d nip at her areola.

He knows he should feel shame at her words; but all he feels are his breeches tightening more so. He rocks against her apex harder, and this time he hears how slick she is. He groans, forehead pressed against hers as he stares down into her half-lidded pleasured gaze.

“I want to taste you, Mother”, Jacaerys husks in desire, breathing each other’s air. He wanted to worship the very place he’d came from, and f*ck was he gonna worship it.

“Then taste me, sweet Prince”, she beckons with a soft vulnerable look. And that is all the inspiration he needs before making quick work of whipping off his night shirt, unbuckling his belt before shucking off his breeches; standing bare in front of her. Her boy was truly his Fathers son, she thought appreciatively.

Jacaerys had a taller, leaner build now, with developing muscles in the chest, arms & abdominals. Fairly muscled thighs from his years of dragon riding, and a proud thick co*ck standing at attention, twitching and weeping white beads of cum.

Her perfect son. Hard for her.

He’s back to kissing down between her breasts, licking his way down as he pulls her shift further down her hips. He pays extra attention to her soft tummy, kissing and licking over her faint stretch marks and she moans, squeezing her thighs together. He pulls the rest of the shift off her hips as she helps shimmy it off, and before long she too is bare before him. He has to lean back and appreciate the view that is Queen Rhaenyra.

There is a sparkle in her gaze, one he hasn’t seen in a while; and he thinks that despite the circ*mstances, he’d do this again if it meant she didn’t lose that sparkle.

He kisses over her rounded, fertile hips - hips that brought him into the world, listening to her pleasured sighs and gasps. He gently parts her soft pale thighs placing them on his shoulders, and he is privy to the most prettiest c*nt he’d seen. He tasted one or two girls before, but the Realms Delight was certainly a sight to behold. And girls simply could not compete with the Woman that is his Mother.

Her arousal leaks onto her inner thighs, her musk enticing - he presses a wet open mouthed pash against her mons, slowly licking over the damp silver curls just above her weeping slit while holding eye contact with his Mother. To her credit she does not look away, brows screwed In pleasure, jaw slackening as she whimpers but never turns her lilac gaze from him.

“Good boy Jace, you’re so good to me - so good to your Muña”, she pants breathily, steadily grinding against his mouth.

Jacaerys groans delightedly at her taste and pulls back to spit on her lips, the action making his Queen gasp before sighing as he laved and slurped his wet tongue against her folds, flicking the tip of his tongue against her pink pearl in quick successive strokes while simultaneously dipping his tongue inside of her. Rhaenyra throws her head back moaning loud and long, Jaces skilful devouring of her wet womanhood was unexpected.

He carried on with that same pattern, tongue swirling, dipping and flicking. He slurps at her as more slick spills, her mutterings unintelligible things as she hums, moans and thrashes under his hands.

Daorunī”, I’m close she whimpers in their ancestral language. She is over-sensitised as Jacaerys tongue works overtime on her, his jaw muscles are aching badly but he was determined to get his Queen to completion, with only his oral appendage.

Mhm, y-yes baby, just like that ”, she groans low, chest heaving as her body grows taut. Her slender hands are gripping his dark curls tightly as she smothers him into her centre. She cries out feeling him dip into her, back arched off the mattress below as he tongue f*cks her leaking slit. The Queen is lost in a sinful org*sm, eyes rolling back into her head as she twitches, arched back taut like a bowstring.

Jacaerys is pleased with how thoroughly debauched she looks, and he gently licks and cleans any spilled arousal off her sensitive c*nt. She releases a quiet girlish moan as he presses a final gentle kiss to her mons pubis, before kissing his way up her body. He sucks a hickey onto her hip bone before soothingly licking over the bruise. She chuckles amusedly tasting herself on his lips, before refocusing her glazed eyes back onto her heir.

He grinds his hard prick gently against her well eaten folds, and an almost primal hunger within the Black Queen overcomes her.

She was quick. A Tigress pouncing on her prey as she expertly flipped him onto the bed, her shapely thighs mounted on his hips as if she were riding a dragon; which is not necessarily wrong. For she’d be riding a Dragon tonight, certainly.

Jacaerys is surprised at the sudden move but not at all displeased. The Valyrian beauty smirks down at her son, lilac eyes watching every micro expression. Her hips gyrate firmly over him while his weeping member slid back and forth between her wet folds, she gyrates and circles and moans . She licks her lips staring into his half lidded eyes.

“Gods, I’ve never come from just oral alone. Something your Father nor Step-Father have achieved”, she praises him, her hands pressed up against his naked chest. The confirmation makes him feel slightly proud. And by the look on Rhaenyras face, she is too.

He chokes, moaning brokenly when she bears down atop him, circling her hips more firmly on his member. His knuckles are whitened from grasping the sheets, he can’t stare at her too long or he’ll end up finishing from the writhing erotic sight of her alone.

When she lowers herself onto him, he can’t help hissing at her tightness, the Queens wet warmth all encompassing, her soft walls moulding perfecting to his shaft. She moans low and long, whispering how good it feels. She rides him slowly, gently at first as to not make him finish too fast. She smiles softly at him then, lost in a lustful panting haze as she rides her sweet Jace a little harder, a little faster. The slapping of wet skin on skin fills the room, the gentle muscles of his mother’s thighs contracting around his hips sending him into a trance. Grabbing her knees he pulls her closer into his groin, inadvertently hitting a deeper spot in her and she cries out oh so beautifully.

Gliding his hands up her thighs, he grabs hold of her waist, pawing at the flesh there. His grip turns savage as once she starts bearing down harder, he thrusts his hips in coordinated time. Both Mother and Son duo work in tandem, a chorus of curses, gasps and grunts alike filling the room.


Using his own thighs to support her back, digging his heels into the mattress, he pistons his hips upwards, co*ck spearing into the ever tightening c*nt that he’d once been birthed from. The dirty thought unexpectedly sends him tumbling head first into an org*sm and he curses loudly, powering his hips faster - hissing as his Queen Mother cries out her pleasure, more slick oozing onto his hips. He comes inside her and she hums, milking him as he groans within her heated walls.

Gentle whispers and kisses are pressed against the crown of his head when she falls beside him on the bed, both sweaty and exhausted. Mentally, emotionally, now also physically taxed.

In the quiet hour of the Owl, Jacaerys wounds his arms around Rhaenyras waist while she cradles his head into her neck, basking in the afterglow of their love making. The hearth had dimmed from burnt out logs casting an ambient, comforting light across her chambers. She is humming a familiar tune, and he almost falls asleep. She’d thought as such.

Muña…” he calls softly, afraid of ruining the peaceful atmosphere between them.

“Yes, my love?”, she croons, silver hair plastered to her glowing skin as she caresses his cheek.

In a small voice he continues, “please, don’t do that again next time. Or tell me if you do…” he silently pleads.

“I was so scared when Mysaria told me where you’d gone. I cant lose you… I cant lose anyone else. Especially you” he whispers tearfully. She watches a lone tear fall and she goes to kiss it away from his cheek.

She regrets leaving like that. She shouldn’t have done it without telling her poor, distraught boy.

She swallows emotionally, Amethyst eyes seeking his earnestly as she holds his hand between them, placing a soft peck on his palm.

“I promise not to do it again, my heart. I will not needlessly put my life in danger again, not unless someone is made aware of it and if absolutely necessary.” She swears tenderly brushing damps curls from his brow, and Jace soaks up the affection.

“Sleep for now, my darling. We have much planning to do tomorrow regarding Rooks Rest”, she presses a gentle kiss to his nose, her soothing humming and warm skin lulling him into a restful sleep.

Sweet Boy - UndyDala - House of the Dragon (TV) [Archive of Our Own] (2024)

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