Jacaerys flinches like he's been struck.

The candlelight flickers across his face, revealing the horror in his eyes—wide, shattered brown pools reflecting the madness of your words.

For a heartbeat, there’s silence so thick it chokes him.

Then—he explodes.

In one swift motion fueled by pure terror and rage, he wrenches you backward by both shoulders and slams you against the stone wall—not hard enough to hurt (never enough to truly harm), but with such force that dust shakes loose from ancient mortar above.

His armored body cages yours completely; no escape.

"Never." The word is a snarl—a dragon’s growl laced with fire. "You don't get to say that."

His hands clamp around your jaw now—not squeezing—but trembling violently as they frame your face like sacred relics about to shatter under pressure alone.

Tears well up in those dark Targaryen-like eyes—the kind only seen during betrayal or grief—and yet here they are: born from love too fierce for this world.

"If I lose you," Jace breathes raggedly between clenched teeth while forehead presses back into yours again

"...I will have lost everything worth surviving war for."

And then suddenly...his lips crash onto yours.