alienoryva - Tumblr blog

alienoryva · 8 days

Note

Absolutely love your blog! If you're still taking Jaehaera/Aegon III requests what about one where they're in a secret relationship and are keeping it from their families but some shenanigans ensue (maybe they snuck out or something, or someone walked in on them kissing?) and they're somehow discovered? Also please overprotective father Aegon II because yes!

(Preferably an AU where the Dance happens later?)

The gathering in the room feels like a court of thorns, and Jaehaera feels as if she is going to hurl. Standing by her family with her grandmother looking at all around with hawk eyes, she feels if something is about to implode. Aegon had been taken from her side to his mother’s, Princess Rhaenyra. The heiress to the Throne had been most wroth, her, her husband, and her sons waking in the middle of the night for this… issue.

The worst of it all, Jaehaerys had been still laughing with damn near tears in his eyes while telling what he witnessed. She had begged him to leave it be, but then he and Aegon got into an altercation, and now… Ugh!

“So I enter her room because I left my book there—” he looks at Princess Rhaenyra and her family, particularly Aegon. “It was my room once too, do mind— and what do I see if not Aegon the Younger pining my sister against her own closet? The closet, grandmother. He didn’t have the mind to get her against a bed.”

She’s going to choke him.

“Oh, fuck off,” Aegon yells at her twin. “As if she hasn’t told me about you becoming a damn near Rosby stableboy in your visits there—”

Princess Rhaenyra pushes him back to his half-brothers, the lot of the brown haired boys holding their brother of nine and ten, yet only his father manages to stare him down. On the other hand, her father had been gritting his teeth beside her, while mother held onto Jaehaerys’s forearm in warning. Alicent gives her twin a pointed look.

“Mind your words, Jaehaerys,” she says, and turns to look at Rhaenyra and her family. “Prince Aegon, would you mind explaining how you came into my granddaughter's rooms?”

Aegon licks his lips, and Jaehaera swallows. The story is longer than both of them would be able to admit. Despite the blood feud of the families, they had managed to talk last year at the ball for her and Jaehaerys five and tenth nameday. Even went on a joint ride with Morghul and Stormcloud, and before he left for Dragonstone, they decided on a day to meet again at the Kingswood. Such meetings repeated. They could only afford a day a moon, but those days were all so sweet. Did she do anything wrong? Yes, had been the objective answer, but she couldn’t care for it.

And here he is, in her very own home. They could hardly speak by their family, how could she not ask for a moment of privacy?

Rhaenyra rubs her temples. “Things like these happen at this age, Alicent,” she says. “You are stressing Jaehaera and Aegon both.”

Alicent furrows her brows. “Oh, these things do happen at this age, don’t they?” she asks, glaring. “We had known since we were her age how reputation matters in finding marriage. Your son is three years her elder and should know not to fiddle with a noble girl’s corset strings at the hour of the bat.”

Jaehaera feels some tears well up in her eyes. She doesn’t care for the embarrassment of being caught by now, but this makes her feel a fool. It had been nothing insidious, was it? They hadn’t even kissed until they celebrated the new year. She hadn’t lost her chastity, either. It is not just…

“He came into those rooms because your granddaughter let him in, Queen Alicent,” Prince Daemon says. “You should mind her doings before you lay judgement on my son’s.”

Jaehaera’s father had been standing quiet for the longest while, but with that he flares. “Men had been sent to the wall and got castrated for less, Uncle. If you don’t like my mother’s judgement, perhaps I should see to it?”

She holds onto her father’s arm. Please, let this stop.

Daemon eyes him dangerously. “See to your own misgivings,” he says. “Your own son laughs at your daughter's.”

“Father, please,” Jaehaera says, when Aegon the Elder tries and almost manages to escape her grip. Her mother and brother come quickly beside them. Her mother stands in front of her father and puts a hand on his chest, warning, while Jaehaerys comes to Jaehaera’s side, a wroth smirk thrown at their grand-uncle’s way.

“I am laughing at my sister’s choices, grand uncle. At least if it had been Viserys, he has my aunt’s pretty face,” he says, backing their father for once. They often argue, but at times they work together, they prove they’re made of the same cloth. “The Seven had laughed at Aegon giving him yours.”

Daemon starts stepping towards them. “You think you are a jester, you defected—”

Prince Jacaerys comes against his step-father to stop him from coming forward, the same ways her mother has to stop her father from doing the same. Her grandmother and Princess Rhaenyra had come to yell at one another, and even the kingsguard had come to get involved. Jaehaera’s body is reduced to shaking, fat tears fully sliding down her cheek.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly between gentle sobs, the sleeves of a dishevelled dress wiping against her face again and again to try and catch all the tears. Only the family beside her hears, so loud were the voices in the room. Her brother and father turn around, with similarly apprehensive faces. “Please, please stop..”

Behind them, from the other side of the room, Aegon sees her in her pathetic state too. She never was the emotional type, and she had oft hoped he liked it for he had been none too different. The unusual petrification on his face makes her blood feel as if it is running dry, and it feels all gone when the dark amethyst of his eyes fall into what she could only call resigned acceptance.

Aegon, her Aegon, comes by his mother and her grandmother, holding Princess Rhaenyra’s arm. “It was my fault. We didn’t mean to… I took it too far,” he finally says. “I won’t come by her any more, Queen Alicent.”

It hurts more than anything else he could’ve said.

Her mother pushes their father aside to cloak her in an embrace. Jaehaera can only tremble and sob against her mother’s robe.

The room grows silent as Princess Rhaenyra and Queen Alicent agree to not tell The King or all else of the incident; so ill had been King Viserys, it had not been worth ailing her grandfather further with this issue when he had been on the brink of passing.

All is to be forgotten, and cast away. Jaehaera’s puffy eyes lift from her mother’s shoulder, and catch his gaze one last time before he leaves. He tries to mouth something, but is pushed by his family out of the room.

Jaehaera sinks against her mother again. Even if she banishes the days in the green Kingswood from her thoughts, the scent of the campfire charring wood black will live in her dreams.

36 notes · View notes

alienoryva · 8 days

Note

No clue if your still taking asks for Aegon III and Jaehaera but what about one where they were secretly courting (Aegon giving Jaehaera gifts like jewels, books she likes and maybe telling her a few stories or singing songs?) they do a similar thing to Daemon and Rhaenyra in the brothel (maybe they’re in a tavern or something?). Maybe Aegon II or Daemon catch them, regardless of how they are caught both are confront and Aegon III ends up asking Aegon II for Jaehaera’s hand in marriage then and there?

Maybe Aegon II’s like: “You ruined my daughter who else will wed her now?”

Meanwhile Aegon III: “Wed her to me. I’ll take her as she is”

Maybe it causes and uproar with the Blacks and Greens both protesting against it while Alicent, Daemon and Rhaenyra hear this conversation and are like “oh no…” cause this has happened before and the chances of it happening again are so unlikely. And maybe they’re confronted like when Aemond lost his eye and everyone yells at each other?

(Also it would be funny if both the Greens and the Blacks were to absorbed in their bickering they didn’t even notice Jaehaera and Aegon III’s feelings for each other? And it isn’t until this happened that they realize how deep this runs and maybe they all overreact to this?)

A/N: I will note here before I start that I actually wrote a very similar request to this already over here. Not sure if you were aware of it but bringing it forward for any case, you may enjoy this one too. That being said, you provided a different dialogue route, so I'll still do this req too. What I linked is from Jaehaera's POV - this will be from Aegon III's POV.

—

“Unhand my son,” his mother yells at his uncle. “At this very moment!”

Although sobered by now, Aegon still feels as if the world moves too fast to comprehend. One moment he is in a tavern with Jaehaera, playing with the earrings he himself had bought her a moon prior and tasting the ale she drank from her very own lips, and in another, he is grabbed, tossed and dragged back here.

Aegon the Elder has a vice grip on his collar. The man is no towering figure, he is in fact smaller than him, but he had the very hold of death when he had caught them in the tavern’s booth. He tasted the blood in his mouth still from several punches. Tomorrow, his eyes would not be the only thing purple about him.

His uncle releases a dismissive sight. It is only when his father steps forward, clutching Dark Sister’s grip, that anything changes. Prince Aemond stands tall with his brother, and Ser Criston Cole goes to charge against his father, but before any fight can take place, Aegon the Elder throws him to the floor.

He hears Jaehaera squeaking, held aside by her mother and twin brother. The peasant garb she had worn to the city hasn’t dimmed her beauty even a smidge. Her usually pin-straight hair is a mess, and his only comfort at this moment is remembering how his fingers felt running through it. Her lips are still flushed and bruised from kisses, vibrant red because of him, for him.

His fingers twitch towards her on the floor, while his brothers surround him.If he had the strength to push them all away, he would. Let me be where I want to be.

“You dare batter a prince? In what world do you think it will go unpunished?!” His mother is still raging.

“This very one, half-sister,” Aegon the Elder yells back, sounding nearby beastly. “I’d sharply question him, but I saw for myself. He touched my daughter.”

Queen Alicent, still in shock, soon blocks his view of Jaehaera. “How long has this been going on for? Tell me now, Jaehaera,” she begins her questioning. His Haera looks the most vulnerable fawn as all eyes in the room land on her, fiddling with one of her fallen earrings. “Tell me so we can fix this.”

She sniffles hard, teary eyes glancing at him in concern. “A little more than..” she stutters. Queen Alicent presses her shoulders. “A little more than a year.”

Before Aegon could even comprehend the confession, Aegon the Elder comes forward once more, swinging his leg and kicking him straight in the face. “You fucking rat!”

“Father!” Jaehaera lets out a wail. While Aegon groans in pain, head slammed against the floor once more, it seems as if an all out war is brewing in the room. Kingsguards rush to the middle of the room, while his brothers are ready to jump his uncles. Even Jaehaerys comes to push Joffrey away from reaching his father.

Aegon the Elder, as his mother and father introduced him, had been a sullen slob with only hatred within his very core. But his Uncle stands over him and looks at him with fire that implies anything but hatred, at least when it comes to his daughter.

“More than a year... You think my daughter is a common whore for you to flaunt and kiss at taverns? You think she’s a plaything for you to call upon whenever?” he hisses at him. “You ruined her. You have been ruining her! Your mother may have never taught you consequences, but they exist, in this world. Who would wed her now?”

There are many answers to that question. Normally, in their family, it would be one of her brothers, but Jaehaera has noted she and her close family all dislike that idea. Lords that see an opportunity, perhaps; Jaehaera is the only granddaughter of the King, with a dragon to boot. Anyone with eyes, is another thought, as he remembers her round pouts, and long lashes that bat curiously whenever he speaks.

Yet the truth is, there has been only one answer.

“Wed her to me,” he pants out, the blood from his nose dribbling aside. His voice is unwavering, ever clear in the quieting room. “I will have her. I want her.”

She is mine, as much as her father hates to admit it. She is meant to be mine.

The atmosphere shifts in the room. Jaehaera is frozen in place, teary eyes begging. His brothers and mother all turn to gasping stones, but it is his father that has his eyes completely changed. He moves away from Ser Criston Cole, staring at him.

“You will have her?” Aegon the Elder nearly spits out. “Little prick. You will have her when I fade to ash.”

“That is it,” Queen Alicent then says, pushing her son away from him. “Prince Aegon will meet a maester before we all turn to speak mindlessly. I must see Jaehaera to her own maester as well.” The woman sighs.

To check if I took her, is implicit in her words. I should have. Should have wedded and bedded her before any of them could take her away. Jaehaera’s mother and brother take her away, while Prince Aemond and Ser Criston Cole both convince his uncle to step away from him.

“After we know…” Queen Alicent grimaces. “We will speak of this more, Princess Rhaenyra.”

“We shall,” his mother says. “Do trust this will not be forgotten, Queen Alicent.”

Aegon is helped onto his legs by his brothers. Talk of concussions, responsibilities, and temporary madness all come his way from all fronts as they walk the Red Keep’s hallways. At the end, it is his father that takes him to the maester’s door. His father keeps a stern face. Aegon knows his father does not like that side of this family, he knows he hates them more than anything. However, he keeps his pride about him.

“I don’t regret it,” Aegon says when they are by the guest room assigned to him. “She is meant to be mine. I will ask it again.”

“You will not,” Daemon answers him, cutthroat. His father’s hand reaches to squeeze on his upper arm, hard.

Aegon gulps. There is something sinister about his father’s gaze.

“Ask, that is. You said all that needed to be said, and I know it will be true,” Daemon tells him. “You will have her. One way… or the other.”

His father turns on his heel, and leaves him be. Jaehaera is there at the back of his mind, sweet lips and violet eyes, with her beauty marks and her gentle voice comparing to the calm of moonlight, but the bride price may be costlier than just the blood dripping down his face.

56 notes · View notes

alienoryva · 8 days

Note

Aegon III/Jaehaera prompt/request: Jaehaera is with their kids (maybe they're in the godswood playing) and Aegon ends up joining them?

(also Alicent is alive because why not? And if two of their daughters could be named for their moms I think that'd be cool)

“Get down from the tree at this instance, young lady,” Alicent warns, face lifted to look at the very branches of the heart tree.

Jaehaera snaps her head back. Her grandmother had been a great aid with her daughters, but sometimes they grow rambunctious beyond belief. Helaena and Rhaenyra are seven now, and their elderly grandmother had struggled to keep pace. Alicent’s now grey hair has blended somewhat unremarkably between her silver-haired family, but it is hard to match with a dragon-spirit.

“No,” Helaena answers, hugging the thick branch of the tree, silver strands cascading down, hanging in the air. “I like it here.”

Jaehaera frowns at her from below. She had been busy braiding Rhaenyra’s hair with all the flowers she wanted in it. Helaena was supposed to wait her turn, but alas, she would not. “We said no climbing, Helaena!”

Her daughter sticks out her tongue, managing to sit up on the branch fearlessly.

“I will get a Kingsguard,” Alicent says after trying to lift her hands to reach her; the heart tree is stocky rather than tall, but her hands are too short. “I will not have you falling down this branch!”

“I never do!” The girl answers, dignified.

Jaehaera ties off Rhaenyra’s braid, and the girl stands up, looking at her sister. “Yes you do!” she says, while swishing around her braid proudly. “Grandma will get Mister Willy to get you!”

Jaehaera tries to maintain a serious demeanor. Ser Willis Fell will never vanquish this silly nickname. Jaehaera lifts herself to come by the tree. “It is time to get down, Helaena.”

“Don’t wanna,” the girl repeats in giggles, stuck to the tree like a cicada. Her little stubborn girl. This Helaena is not her mother, but she can’t help but feel stressed at the idea of her falling. Jaehaera is sure her grandmother feels similarly; only a few years ago she had refused to leave her rooms, still.

“Papa,” Rhaenyra suddenly exclaims, running towards an incoming figure and hugging his leg. “Helaena climbed the trees again!”

Aegon, patting gently against her head, hums. “And is making far too many people beg again, is she?”

“Yes!”

Jaehaera turns around to him, a little sigh escaping her when her husband comes by her side. “She was supposed to be waiting her turn for a braid.”

Aegon hums. “The first mistake was expecting her to wait,” he says, and after some pause, kisses the side of her head. He’s been opening slowly to all touch since their daughters grew up.

They’ve come into a good place in their marriage, this last year. He tries to reach out more, even when her grandmother still turns stony whenever he comes around. Alicent curtsies at him respectfully, but is clearly concerned more by her granddaughter to spare him too much of her gaze. She lifts her arms again. “Helaena, come down.”

Aegon gives Jaehaera one glance, before he steps forward between grandmother and granddaughter. “Let me,” he says, and he lifts his arms himself. Alicent’s brown eyes squint at him, but move aside. He actually reaches the legs the girl had been swinging, and she giggles. “Jump to me, daughter? I’ll catch you.”

Helaena licks her lips. Her deep amethyst eyes have a happy glint to them. This is just a way to fly for her. The girl lifts herself off the branch, and falls, but into her father’s safe arms. He catches her in a big hug.

“There we go,” he says, smiling at his daughter as he turns back to Alicent. “Now we all can be calm.”

Her grandmother still struggles with Aegon at times, but her brown eyes turn softer then, holding her wrinkled hands together as she watches her chuckling granddaughter. Alicent gives him a nod and speaks gently. “Thank you, your Grace.”

Aegon nods back at her, gracefully humble. Looking back at Helaena, he holds the strands of her hair. “Do you want your hair braided too, now?”

Helaena glances at Rhaenyra, and they share some mischievous look. “No,” she says. “Papa’s turn.”

“Papa’s?” he asks, and before Jaehaera knows it, Rhaenyra tugs on her hand and rushes her to her father. Helaena is already tugging on Aegon’s hair.

“Papa’s turn, papa’s turn!” Rhaenyra repeats, and Jaehaera laughs at the look on her husband’s face. Oh, he’s positively shocked, almost speechless as he realizes there is no escape.

Jaehaera brings a hand to his shoulder. “Your turn, husband,” she tells him. “Sit down, if you may.”

“..If you ask so kindly, I suppose I must,” he says in soft exasperation as Helaena already tugs on some of his strands. He hardly ever breaks into a smile, but there is a tug on the corners of his lips. He sits down, and lets Jaehaera and their daughters come around him. Jaehaera runs a hand through his hair gently, hoping he knows she is glad for this, too.

Her grandmother sits slightly farther away, watching all throughout, any frown or scowl notably absent. Later, when Jaehaera escorts her back to her rooms, Alicent gives her an old book. Beautifully illustrated, but not well tended to — it seems a page of it is missing.

“You should read it, with your husband and the girls,” she tells her. “The kindest of days are those passed with stories told at the shade of the heart trees.”

41 notes · View notes

alienoryva · 8 days

Text

The Sacredness of Tears ♔ Chapter 1

Aegon III Targaryen x Jaehaera Targaryen

Tags: mention of grief/mourning, depression, eventual happy ending

Wordcount: 5,800

Upon the death of her grandmother, Jaehaera found herself contemplating her life and the burden of her past. As the pressure to birth an heir became heavier she reached out to Aegon in her grief, hoping the two of them could, if not heal, then survive together.

Masterlist

“There is a sacredness in tears. They are not a mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition and of unspeakable love.”

―Washington Irving

Chapter 1 ♔ Overwhelming Grief

On the Seventh day of the Seventh moon of the year 131 after Aegon’s Conquest, a date deemed sacred to the Gods, the High Septon of Oldtown pronounced the marriage vows as Prince Aegon the Younger, eldest son of Queen Rhaenrya by her uncle Prince Daemon, wed Princess Jaehaera, the daughter of Queen Helaena by her brother King Aegon II.

Thereby uniting the two rival branches of House Targaryen and ending two years of treachery and carnage, the Dance of the Dragons was done and the melancholy reign of King Aegon III Targaryen began.

The royal marriage was troubled from the first, as the girl had witnessed the murder of her twin brother at the hands of Blood and Cheese, and the king had lost all four of his own brothers, then watched his uncle feed his mother to his dragon.

Once wed, they had very little contact with one another save on formal occasions, and even that was rare, as the little queen was loath to leave her chambers. After months of observing and silently praying for change, Grand Maester Munkun wrote a letter to the Conclave, putting his worries into words.

Both of them are broken. These are not normal children. They have no joy in them. The girl weeps inconsolably when she is corrected and had I not laced her milk with sweetsleep before the wedding, I am convinced the child would have collapsed during the ceremony. Aegon shows little interest in his wife, or any other girl. He does not ride or hunt or joust, but neither does he enjoy sedentary pursuits such as reading, dancing, or singing. Though his wits seem sound enough, he never initiates a conversation, and when spoken to his answers are so curt one would think the very act of talking was painful to him. During the hour of the wolf he can often be found standing by a window, gazing up at the stars. Orwyle was wont to call His Grace calm and self-possessed; I say the boy is dead inside. He walks the halls of the Red Keep like a ghost. I must be frank, I fear for our king, and for the kingdom.

Ten years into the marriage, the situation described by Maester Munkun had seldom evolved; Queen Jaehaera rarely left her quarters, and only did so to go to prayers or to visit her grandmother, Alicent Hightower, who was confined to her own chambers.

The relationship between the two women was neither tense nor close, as the dowager queen was a devastated woman whose only joys were the sporadic visits of her granddaughter. Jaehaera still bore affection for her, but the sorrow they had both faced kept a cold distance between the two, and she disliked any attempts at physical contact from the older woman. Alicent would smile every time she tried and was rebuked, and reminded Jaehaera how much like her mother she was.

The girl loathed to hear those words, as she did not wish to carry the ghost of Queen Helaena. She kept her memories of her mother close to her heart, as well as those of her brothers, and often revisited them when she was alone. Their ghosts kept her company, and so in a way she was never truly alone.

Although her own mother had been ten and four when she had given birth to Jaehaera and her twin, the little queen's Septa had advised against rushing her charge to join the marriage bed and procreate, lest it have the opposite effect of the desired result.

The young king Aegon seemed similarly inclined, whether it was by chance or by advice, and did not seek the company of his wife.

Therefore, a full decade into the marriage, the people of the court could count on one hand the number of times the royal couple had spent time alone, always on formal occasions. Whether it was for a banquet, a royal blessing or petitions, they had exchanged but a few hushed words in passing, and showed little to no interest in one another.

Aegon's regency had ended four years prior but the realm was governed by his council, as the young man seemingly had as much interest in ruling as he did the rest of the occupations available to him.

The only consolation Jaehaera could find in her wretched situation was that Aegon did not seem inclined to share his company with other women; the sanctity of their marriage remained unbroken, and she remained untarnished.

As Jaehaera crossed the blurred line into womanhood and entered the cold winter as a woman of eight and ten, Alicent Hightower passed, and therefore severed the last link Jaehaera had with her past. Committing her grandmother's body to the earth, she felt as though she was also committing her childhood, leaving it to rot and turn to ash, and in a way it felt like a liberation.

On the night after the funeral, she dreamed of her mother, of her brothers, and in the quiet of her mind made a decision. She could either join them in the grave or build a family line of her own, a legacy that would bear her features and that of Aegon. A legacy that would forever unite the lines of Alicent Hightower and Rhaenyra Targaryen, and give life to dragons again instead of dwelling on ashen cold bones.

When dawn came, she woke, walked to the window and made her decision.

"Alana," she called, and the lady-in-waiting hurried into the room.

Her dull hair and plain features had been the reason for her employment in this position, as she could easily blend into the atmosphere around the young queen, but as Jaehaera saw her in the morning light, she wished for nothing more than to rip the veil from the girl's head and pinch her cheeks red. "I would like to break my fast in the gardens today."

The lady-in-waiting blinked, then a slow smile crept on her face, brightening it, and Jaehaera decided against ordering her to wear rouge. A smile would suffice, and she would rather take honest emotion than powders. The lady curtsied and hurried out of the room again, calling for servants to set up a table and bring a hearty meal to the gardens.

"The Council has been planning a banquet to celebrate the second name day of the young Aegon," Alana announced as she poured goat milk into her mistress' tea half an hour later.

The morning sun was making the porcelain shine, and gave a pearly quality to the young queen's white hair. Jaehaera smiled slightly at the mention of Prince Viserys and Larra Rogare's son, tucking a strand of her shiny locks behind her ear.

"That sounds appropriate," she replied, demure.

She realized she was unsure how to act or even answer the simplest questions, and she felt ashamed of herself for not knowing her own role as queen. It was as though the black veil had lifted from her eyes, and she was finally allowing herself to see the world in other colors than shades of gray. She realized in that instant that although she ought to mourn, she had left her head covering in her rooms.

"Would you like to attend?" came the eager response from her lady.

"Will the king attend?" she inquired as she sipped her tea.

"His brother will certainly insist on it, so I'm afraid he will have no choice," Alana explained, tilting her head, curious as to why the queen had inquired after her husband, as she never did. This peculiar shame was a shared one, as Jaehaera never reached for him, no more than he reached for her, and she wondered where the line between them was drawn, closer to her side or his.

"Will you make the necessary arrangements for my attendance?" she asked, turning to face her second lady.

"Of course, my queen," Clarice replied, and the golden-haired woman curtsied before heading back into the castle, no doubt spreading the good word that her mistress wished to attend the banquet, and seemed to be in high spirits.

Left alone with Alana to drink tea and eat a few bites of breakfast, which she had to force herself to, Jaehaera contemplated the opportunities of the day, and in the privacy of her own heart, set small hopes for the hours to come.

She was now truly alone in the Keep, except for two men who shared her blood, and one who happened to be her husband. She had never allowed herself to cling to him in her grief, as the boy had seem already suffocated by his own, but now that the shadow of the war between the Black and Green Queens had vanished, buried in the Sept Jaehaera was sure she would never foot in ever again, she found herself guided by an unfamiliar pull.

Her heart longed for knowledge of her husband, and to share this sudden discovery she had made upon bidding goodbye to her childhood.

Up in the Red Keep, a curtain pulled over a window and a pale face appeared, peering at the gardens. In his chambers, young king Aegon watched as the sun made the leaves dance, shadows playing over the table where Jaehaera was having tea with her ladies. Wrapped in a thick robe, his sleeping gown still on, the spring breeze ruffling his curls, he pushed the panel open wider and allowed the sound of chirping birds and wind chimes into the room.

"What is going on?" Aegon asked, and another white-haired young man came and peeked at the window.

"It seems the queen is breaking her fast in the gardens," Gaemon said in a surprised tone. "Would you like to join her?"

Gaemon Palehair was the king's only friend and trusted companion, a common-born bastard that the people of King's Landing had hoped to make their king, before the true origin of his white hair had annihilated his claim. He had once been believed to be a bastard of Prince Daemon, but in truth his white hair came from a merchant of Lys, and the Council of Regents had deemed it safe to allow him at court, to keep the young king company.

"No," Aegon answered curtly, as though the mere thought was offensive.

Closing the window again and pulling the curtains shut, he wrapped his robe tighter around himself with a sigh and dropped into the chair in front of the hearth. Curling in on himself, he brought his knees up to his chin as Gaemon covered his bare feet with a woolen quilt—Aegon was often cold and disliked the exteriors, as he was prone to chills and fevers.

"Your brother has asked that you attend this morning's council," his friend informed him as he poured hot tea into half-empty cups sitting on a small table.

"Whatever for?" Aegon asked.

"I believe a banquet is being prepared, in honor of your nephew Aegon's second name day," Gaemon explained as he handed the king his tea, then sat down with his own cup, his nonchalant way almost out of place in the austere atmosphere of the king's quarters.

There was nothing the young man could do that would be regarded as insolence, as he had the king's trust and love, and knew the darkest corners of the man's mind while never passing judgment on them.

"If I must," the young monarch grunted after a minute of silence.

Gaemon allowed the king to drink half of his tea before he started the conversation again—the fragrant porridge, jam and honey cakes remained untouched, as they did most mornings, but the cook insisted the king must be brought three meals a day.

"There is a sensitive topic which the Council thought I should breach with you," Gaemon finally said after clearing his throat.

Aegon made a soft noise of barely concealed annoyance, his gaze fixed on the dancing flames in the hearth. Most of the time, even his friend could not tell what was going on in his mind when he was being sullen, but the matter was of too great importance to be avoided.

Even if he was to give offense or trigger a bout of anger from the king, he would rather take a few broken cups on the floor than the wrath of the Council for avoiding the subject.

"As you are aware, young Aegon is nearing the end of his infancy, and as of a fortnight ago, now has a male sibling. Your brother Viserys has an heir and a spare, as they say, and—" Gaemon hesitated, but Aegon snapped before the young man could find appropriate or delicate wording.

"He has performed what I've been unable to, is that what you mean to tell me? Do not bother, I am aware of it," came the bitter words, acrid like a snake's venom. It was sometimes astonishing how such a tone could come from such a small, sickly man, and it was all the more frightening.

"The Council fears your marriage finds itself in a vulnerable state," Gaemon confirmed in his best diplomatic voice, which made Aegon grunt again and roll his eyes. Perhaps he should not have been cast away as potential heir, as he seemed perfectly apt to perform political duties.

"The Council is not wrong. Jaehaera and I barely talk to one another," Aegon admitted in a soft voice, hiding his face behind his cup.

"She is a demure young woman, of a calm and sweet disposition. I'm sure she would be amenable to whatever arrangement you would propose," Gaemon continued, despite the king's obvious reluctance.

The topic of his queen was always delicate to breach—he bore the girl no ill feelings, and respected her more than most high-born men in the Red Keep respected their wives, but his heart was cold and his flesh profoundly disinterested. The marriage bed remained empty, the sheets untainted of the blood of her innocence, and the barren state of their union remained an utmost concern to the Council.

"You need an heir, your grace," Gaemon continued firmly, and Aegon slammed his cup down on the table so sharply he feared a crack would appear in the porcelain.

"If this issue concerns you so, why don't you do it then? Father the heir. Your hair and skin are as pale as mine, no one would know," he said as though his suggestion was sound and reasonable, but they both knew it was the most ludicrous thing he could have said.

"They would, Aegon," his friend replied gently.

The young king sighed, closing his eyes and burying his face into his knees. Of all the burdens he had to bear, it was not the crown which weighed the heaviest upon his head, but the expectations that came with his sex and station. He understood the order of things, that it was crucial for the king to have male heirs.

This issue had almost caused the downfall of his house and had opened the gates of all Seven Hells, allowing the Stranger to pluck his parents and siblings from this earth one by one.

Aegon knew his duty, and the devastating consequences his failure could have on the Targaryen dynasty.

Meanwhile, a babe of Targaryen blood laid warm and satisfied against the full breast of Larra Rogare. The young woman had given birth to her second son a fortnight ago and chosen to forgo the services of a wet nurse. It was unheard of where she had grown, and she was insistent on implementing the Lysene culture she had known all her life before she had followed Viserys to Westeros.

The babe made a soft noise of contentment and buried his face against her, the sweet smell of milk lulling him to sleep once more. Larra smiled, a radiant, private smile that Jaehaera had never seen before, and for a moment she felt out of place, like an intruder, even though the princess had welcomed her into her quarters.

"You will forgive me for my unpresentable state," Larra had said when the queen had entered her chambers that morning, as she was still bed-bound and intent on feeding Aemon as often as he needed.

Jaehaera had smiled that demure, chagrined smile that Larra had come to recognize as the only way the young queen could signify agreement—as though she did not know her own opinion.

Now the white-haired woman was sitting at the foot of the bed, her feet dangling from the high mattress, looking down at the babe who bore the same carnation and hair color as her. She had looked down at Larra's full chest and the babe that suckled at it with curiosity and something akin to wonder, and now that the little prince was growing heavier in his mother's hold, sleep making his body curl in that way only infants did, there was tenderness in her eyes.

She could hardly remember the tender touch of her own mother, only fleeting moments overshadowed by the ghost the woman had become after Jaehaerys' death. The little girl she had been then still lived in her skin, trembling at the slightest shouts, unable to sleep without the room lit with countless candles and a blazing hearth, heaving at the mere sight or smell of blood.

The only occasion she had been able to bear it, only for a second, had been the birth of Aemon—it was customary for any prince or princess to be presented to the queen, and she had been urged to be present at her sister-in-law's bedside the moment the babe had been born. Part of Jaehaera believed it had been advised as a way to spur her to seek motherhood, but she had perceived it as witnessing her own downfall.

Since then, she had been caught in a spiral of self-loathing and despair, only pulled out by the sudden shock of Alicent's passing.

"May we have a moment alone?" she suddenly inquired, and Larra's eyebrows rose to meet her low hairline, both at the request and the fact that Jaehaera was asking her rather than ordering the servants.

"Of course," the young mother nodded, looking up and silently dismissing her help.

The ladies and servants curtsied without a word, leaving the room and closing the door on this little world Larra had made of her chambers—the atmosphere there was so vibrant one could forget they were in the Red Keep. From the luxurious fabrics, couches and pillows, to the brightly colored tapestries and curtains, Jaehaera imagined this is what Lys looked and felt like.

"You have now given Prince Viserys two sons," Jaehaera started, looking down where the tips of her fingers were playing with the silver embroideries on a quilt, and Larra smiled at the lack of manners.

It was considered impolite for a noble or royal lady to broach a topic so bluntly, she had been taught upon her arrival at court, and she was delighted to find out that the queen was inclined to forgo such a rule. Perhaps she had never been taught, as the need did not arise—she was not known for her conversation, after all.

"You worry about your position, is that it?" Larra asked just as bluntly, which made Jaehaera hesitate for a moment.

"No, it is not that," she replied politely, then after a moment of careful thought, she sighed softly. There was a natural elegance to the woman, as long as she was sitting still and not walking or attempting to dance, then it became painfully obvious how ill-adjusted she was. "Yes, I suppose I worry about my position. Is that awfully inconsiderate of me?"

"It's only natural," Larra said, sounding slightly bewildered. "You are the queen and yet you are vulnerable."

"In what sense?" Jaehaera pushed, then made an apologetic sound as Aemon stirred.

"Nearly ten years of marriage and you still have not borne the king any heirs. He is over twenty now, the regency is long over, there is no reason for him not to bed you," the Lysene princess continued, and even if the queen was unused to being spoken to so directly, she was thankful for the clarity it brought to the conversation.

She hid her blushing cheeks for a moment, dropping her head until she was able to compose herself, then pushed her long hair back behind her shoulders.

"And yet he hasn't," she said with a sad smile, as she knew it needed not be said. The whole court was painfully aware of the cold state of her bed, and even if this information had not been public knowledge, she suspected the Hand would know and tell his wife in confidence.

"Is it safe for me to assume that your marriage still remains unconsummated?" the golden-haired woman asked, her pale skin brightening with mischief.

"Indeed it is."

It was a plain truth, one known by many, and even though Jaehaera did not feel any shame for it she could not ignore it anymore. The thought of sharing a bed with a man was so foreign she could hardly picture it, even more so when it came to Aegon. She knew nothing of him as a man, nothing more than the features he shared with her as well as the sullen, sorrowful temperament.

"Then you are in danger, ever more so," Larra concluded, not unkindly. "Everyone in the Keep knows the king's marriage bed is as cold as the grave. You could easily be replaced."

"Replaced?"

"It is a cruel world we live in, my queen. The men of the court would rather blame you than force the king to confront his failures. Your marriage would be easy to annul, and I'm sure there are many names waiting to be dropped into the King's ear for your replacement."

"Aegon wouldn't," Jaehaera defended weakly, holding on to her hopes rather than her certitudes.

"Aegon would think he is delivering you from your prison," Larra said softly, with a sadness etched on her brow in such a plain way that Jaehaera knew she was speaking an informed truth. Her lower lip trembled as she realized how foolish she had been, how willfully ignorant, when she could have asked the Hand or his wife for guidance long ago.

"How do you know about the court's schemes? What names are you aware of?" she asked, her chest rattled by a concealed sob.

"The Velaryons will be present at the banquet. I know that a daughter of their house will be presented to the king, under the cover of introducing her to court."

Jaehaera trembled at the revelations. "Ambition has taken everything from me. My brothers, my mother, my peace... I would not let it take my husband."

"Then may I suggest you make good use of the banquet to show the realm how devoted you are to the king, and how replacing you would be a mistake," Larra pressed, and the woman she once believed to be driven by greed and ambition now seemed her greatest ally. There was something truly genuine in the words of a mother whose belly was still soft, the wet cloth of her gown sticking to her skin with the milk that spilled from her breasts at each coo of her babe—Larra held a truth in her arms, in her belly, and Jaehaera wished to know it.

She knew the terrible choice she was faced with—she could die with Alicent, let the Hightower legacy die once and for all, or she could cling to the faint memories of Helaena, to her motherly warmth, and find her way back to life by giving it, continuing the line of the Dreamer Queen.

Still trembling from fright at the knowledge of the schemes against her, Jaehaera sat at Aegon's side at the banquet a fortnight later. The king looked like a hesitant guest more than the host he really was, and he seemed as unsettled by her presence than by the festivities.

He glanced at her once in a while, and she hoped the dress she had had made in a hurry made her look more like the true queen than a little girl. She had chosen to wear gold, as she could not bear to wear the dark red of the Targaryens, and she hoped the cream and silver that went along with it flattered her complexion.

Aegon kept his silence, seemingly unwilling to comment on her presence or appearance.

He knew he should have rewarded the queen with a kind word for her presence, as Gaemon had signaled to him with a kick to the shin, but the words had remained caught in his throat.

Instead, he had looked away as his friend had complimented the queen for her gown and hairdo, and told her of his delight that she was present. The young woman had blushed and floundered under the unexpected compliments, so much so that Gaemon had apologized for his forwardness and since then had refused to speak more than absolutely necessary.

"It would have been more appropriate coming from you," he had hissed in Aegon's ear. Off to the side of the table, Viserys had watched the scene with barely concealed annoyance and worry.

Viserys kept the farce going for as long as he could, maintaining the illusion that all was right when it was plain as day that the king did not wish to be there, and that he really was present of body only, his mind having wandered far away.

He greeted the guests that came to pay their respects and congratulate him for the birth of his second son, as well as the fact that his first had come out of infancy strong and healthy. From the corner of his eyes, he noticed Queen Jaehaera's attentive eyes and saw her lips move silently several times, as though she was rehearsing lines or repeating to herself what Viserys was saying.

At some point, he turned to her fully and offered her a nod of respect and support, smiling as her eyes widened in surprise. He usually ignored her, as any attention seemed to make her cower, but as unexpected as this silent interaction was, he found himself delighted it was taking place. Between them on the half-moon table, Aegon was staring ahead and Gaemon was drowning his annoyance in wine.

As Lord Alyn Velaryon approached with his niece holding onto his arm, Jaehaera suddenly stood, making Aegon startle. Without a second thought, he stood as well, instinct pushing him to follow his wife's lead. The sea lord and his niece both seemed surprised and hesitated, halfway through the few steps at the top of which the royal table stood, as it was greatly unusual to be acknowledged in this way.

"Lord Alyn," Viserys greeted as he stood slowly, throwing a worried glance to Jaehaera.

"My King, my Queen," the man greeted with a low bow, then turned to the prince. "My Lord Hand. May I offer my congratulations on this joyous occasion?"

"Your congratulations are deeply appreciated, my Lord," Viserys answered almost absently, as absorbed by the queen's unusual behavior as he was. Her eyes were trained on the Velaryon lady as though she was seeing a ghost.

Finally, after a moment of tense silence where Gaemon didn't even dare stand or kick the king into responding, Jaehaera spoke in a surprisingly steady voice. Her tone was teary and her cheeks flushed a bright pink, but she held the sea lord's gaze. "Lord Alyn, I believe you have also come to introduce your niece to court?"

"Indeed, my Queen," the man replied, visibly taken aback, and when it became apparent that the queen was waiting for him to continue, lead his niece to take a step forward. "May I present you Lady Daenaera, daughter of my dearly departed brother, Lord Daeron Velaryon."

She was a young woman of an obviously sunny disposition, with a bright smile that warmed Jaehaera's heart. Her dark skin glowed in the light of the candles, her tight white curls cascading down her shoulders where seashells had been embroidered into her turquoise dress. Her beauty was effortless, and Jaehaera felt pale and dull in comparison. Still, she greeted the young woman with kindness.

"My King, my Queen, it is an honor to be presented to you," she said with confidence.

"Lady Daenaera, welcome to court," Jaehaera, barely trembling, and she was relieved when Viserys dismissed them quickly after that, under the disguise of encouraging the lady to dance with as many suitors as she pleased. As Jaehaera sat down, tears pooled in her eyes and she felt more of a fool than ever before.

At her side, Aegon was looking at her with barely concealed confusion, wondering why she had felt the need to address Lord Velaryon and his niece when Viserys could have handled them as he had done the rest of the guests, on his own.

He was Hand after all, and Aegon felt comfortable to leave his brother to deputize for him. Now that the Velaryons had been greeted and welcomed to court, Aegon felt his presence was no longer required by protocol, and he stood again, this time to take his leave.

Gaemon stayed behind as he instructed him quickly—he wished to be alone in silence, and knew he would loathe any sort of company at the moment.

However, he didn't foresee the need to address his wife or instruct her to remain at the banquet, as the situation had never presented itself before—she usually left before him, after barely enough time for the court to glance at her and confirm that she was indeed still alive and breathing. As he made his way up the staircase and down the private corridor that led the royal quarters, he heard light footsteps hurry behind him.

"Aegon," he heard Jaehaera call before he could turn, and almost startled at her direct address.

"I am tired, I wish to retire to my chambers," he said as he came to face her.

She stopped a few feet away from him, more than was necessary as his wife, but he appreciated her consideration. Her skin was still flushed and her eyes glossy with unshed tears, and he felt a spike of annoyance. He hoped she was not seeking comfort from him.

"Of course. May I accompany you?" she asked.

He must have looked confused, as she licked her lips and lowered her eyes. "Whatever for?" he asked, more of a scoff than a curl of air indicating a question.

"I'm your wife," Jaehaera answered slowly, eyes still low, as though she was unsure of that fact.

"That, I know. We've never enjoyed each other's company, why would we start now?" he continued, utterly puzzled at her behavior on that night.

He wondered if one of the lords who was sitting on his Council had instructed her to do so, and sudden anger flooded his chest. He had left strict and firm instructions for the queen never to be disturbed as soon as the regency had come to an end and his word had gained more authority. He knew how the girl reacted to being directed, or even nudged.

"I actually don't know that," came the careful answer, and Aegon realized he had let his mind wander again.

"Don't know what?"

"That I don't enjoy your company. We have never been given a true chance," Jaehaera explained, raising her violet gaze to his. This time she looked less hesitant and Aegon felt a sudden fear that Gaemon was behind her change of behavior. "Wherever we went, lords and ladies observing us. The regents, the Septa..."

"Which you never seemed to mind. Why the sudden change of heart?" Aegon accused more than he inquired.

"My Grandmother passed. I'm alone now. You are all that I have," she replied tearfully, and Aegon's annoyance at her vanished, instead turning toward himself. He scoffed again, and turned to take his leave.

"I pity you, then."

"We could try, one evening. Do you enjoy music? Or books?" she tried, desperately grasping at straws, stepping closer to him. From where she was standing, he could smell some kind of flowery fragrance, perfume or soap, and see the intricate and delicate embroidery of her dress.

"No, none of it," he replied harshly, to which she breathed a quiet, disappointed oh, which only fueled his ire. "I have warned you before, I make poor company."

"You certainly do not make any effort otherwise," Jaehaera said unexpectedly, and Aegon was left utterly speechless for a long moment.

He had never heard her speak her mind in such a blunt fashion, and if he was honest with himself, he hadn't known she possessed a mind of her own to speak. He found himself at a disadvantage, being nagged again for his lack of conversation, and he thought Gaemon would no doubt agree with her.

"Perhaps it is that I do not enjoy your company," he replied bitterly, his chest constricting in instant regret at the desperate intake of breath it triggered in her.

"This—this is cruel, even for you. Unnecessarily so," Jaehaera protested, tears burning her eyes as she blinked frantically.

She took a step back as he approached her, shaking her head as her lower lip trembled pitifully and tears drew tracks in the powder that had been applied to her face.

She looked like a delicate doll that had been left too long in the sun, the paint melting away, and Aegon found himself strangely drawn to wiping her tears. He reached out to her clumsily, using the corner of his sleeve to wipe a tear on her cheek, leaving an obvious smudge in her powder.

"I am sorry," he murmured. "I am unused to the company of others. Women even less so."

Aegon trembled as she swayed, almost leaning into his touch, but didn't answer. "I suppose I could make an effort, for you," he offered, wiping the underside of her lower lip where a tear had caught. There was beauty in her vulnerability, he found, even though he knew nothing of beauty. He sighed. "Not tonight."

She nodded her agreement, or perhaps simply her acknowledgement. He wondered if she would still want to seek his company after he had spoken to her in such a way, and she had been right, he had been cruel. He knew how easily she crumbled under the words of others, and he loathed himself as his first instinct had not been to shield her from such an occurrence.

"Another night, perhaps... We might share supper," he offered again, and this time her lower lip stretched into a tender smile, even though she was still keeping her eyes lowered, away from his face.

Something tugged at Aegon's heart, something that made him want to bolt back to the safety of his chambers, flayed and exposed as he felt. As a young boy he had made Jaehaera cry so often, and in that instant he realized he could not remember if he had ever made her smile.

Dividers by @saradika

Tagging my lovely readers ♡‬

@darkenchantress @bellameshipper @itscatlien-blog @castellomargot @cardi-bre91 @avengingangelfanfic @malfoytargaryen @mari0302 @iamfandomnerd @diosademuerte @hb8301 @serrhaewinn @mariannnavao @pasta-rask @chattylurker @svtansdaddyx @its-sam-allgood @amarillys92 @i-mushi @namgification @anditsmywholeheart @dahlias-and-marigolds @valleyof-goldenlilies @elleclairez @esmeralda-tupi @merovingianprincess @darylandbethfanforever9 @marvelita85 @partypoison00 @dr-aegon @nina2697 @helaenaluvr @llearlert @666cherrybby666 @m1tzifa1ry @girlwith-thepearlearring @theoneeyedprince @llearlert @greenowlfactif @babyblue711 @moonmaiden1996 @yentroucnagol @drakonflames @solisarium @mysteris-things @aemondsbabygirl @toodlesxcuddles @xxxkat3xxx @bunbunbl0gs @bluerskiees

123 notes · View notes