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Jace had always been a little confused whenever his friends complained about their parents. He heard it everywhere—at school, whispered over lunch tables, half-joking rants about shouting matches and cold silences—but none of it ever matched his own life.
He couldn’t relate, not really. His parents had always been… in love. Openly, unapologetically so. Sometimes it was downright cringe, the kind that made him groan and leave the room, but even then he wouldn’t have traded it for anything.
Some of his earliest memories were of warmth and quiet domestic moments, the kind that stuck with him without him realizing why.
Like the nights when Lucerys and Joffrey would fall asleep tangled together on their parents’ bed, one of them drooling on the pillow, the other clutching a blanket. Jace would linger in the doorway, watching as his father—Harwin—sat on the edge of the bed, arms folded, completely smitten as his mother stood at the mirror applying lip gloss.
Harwin’s expression was always the same: soft, lovesick, like the world narrowed down to just her reflection smiling back at him.
There were mornings too. His parents moving around the kitchen in quiet sync, shoulders brushing as they passed each other coffee mugs, murmured jokes exchanged over the sound of sizzling pans.
Harwin would sneak an arm around her waist while she pretended to scold him for being in the way, and Jace would roll his eyes while Lucerys giggled and Joffrey clapped like it was the greatest show he’d ever seen.
Even on bad days—missed buses, scraped knees, spilled cereal—there was never tension thick enough to choke the room.
Jace honestly couldn’t remember ever seeing them argue. Maybe they did, sometimes. He figured they had to—everyone did—but if they did, they never let it touch the rest of the house.
Whatever disagreements existed were handled quietly, behind closed doors, resolved before bedtime stories and goodnight kisses.
That was what stayed with him as he grew older. Not grand gestures or dramatic declarations, but the small, mundane things: shared looks across a room, hands resting on familiar backs, love so steady it felt permanent. That was what he wanted someday. A small home. Someone he loved. Quiet evenings where doing nothing together felt like everything.