Yours. Always. Chapter 3
I never thought I'd post anything let alone multiple chapters. I was crying rivers last week and I did in fact not like Jace's death. Istg I was crying on the train.
Anyways I decided to change some stuff so hope yall like it :)
Contains: swearing, death, blood, fighting, eventual smut? If it's requested, happy ending. Honestly don't even know how to use warnings I don't think it's needed for people who watched GOT or HOTD. Also it's kinda rushed so not so many details, the first chapters are honestly just an introduction to Maera, I don't even know how long this fanfic will be so please do not judge me.
Thank you so much for liking my story! If you notice something that’s not right pls tell me :))
Happy reading!!
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That night replayed in Maera’s mind for days afterward. It became her favorite secret.
The hidden glances across crowded rooms. The small smiles meant for no one else. The lingering touches whenever they passed each other in the halls. The way Jace’s eyes always seemed to find hers no matter where she stood. She cherished every second of it.
For the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to hope.
And then Aegon was crowned king.
And Luke was dead.
Killed by Vhagar.
Killed by Aemond.
The world did not shatter all at once. It cracked. Slowly and cruelly. Until there was nothing left beneath her feet.
Maera remembered the exact moment the news arrived. The silence that followed. The look on Rhaenyra’s face as her entire soul seemed to collapse inward. The sound that escaped her was not a scream nor a sob, it was something far worse. Something broken.
Maera had been there when the news came. And she had been there when Jace returned from the North. He had looked older somehow. As if grief had stolen years from him overnight.
At Luke’s funeral, Maera stood beside him, her hand tightly entwined with his. She rested her head against his shoulder while the sea swallowed the smoke and the wind carried prayers into the sky.
To everyone else, it looked like the comfort of a sister mourning beside her brother.
To them, it was everything.
It was love.
It was grief.
It was a promise neither of them knew how to keep.
⸻
As the sun sank beneath the horizon, painting Dragonstone in shades of blood-red and gold, Maera stormed through the halls. The guards moved aside before she even reached them.
Everyone knew that look.
She found her father in the council chamber.
“Father.”
Daemon glanced up. He knew that tone far too well. It was the tone she used when she was about to prove a point. Or become one.
This time, he suspected it was the latter.
“I want to take Cannibal and attack tonight.” She stepped closer. “They won’t know what hit them.” Her eyes burned. Not with anger.
With pain.
The kind of pain that rotted from the inside out. And Daemon knew immediately that she was not thinking clearly.
“No.”
The answer was immediate, firm and final. But this was his own daughter, he doubted she’d listen.
“Since when do you disagree when it comes to killing—”
“Since it involves my daughter getting herself killed!” His voice cracked through the room like a whip. The silence afterward felt deafening.
Daemon exhaled sharply before gripping her shoulders. “Look at me.”
She didn’t.
“Maera.”
Finally, she met his gaze.
“I know how you feel.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do.”
His voice softened, dangerously so.
“What you’re suggesting isn’t vengeance. It isn’t strategy. It’s grief.”
She looked away.
“You want to burn because you’re hurting.”
Her jaw clenched.
“They killed Luke.”The words came out shattered.
Barely audible. As though speaking them made them real.
Daemon’s grip tightened.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t!”
The tears finally came.
Hot.
Angry.
Humiliating.
“They killed Luke!”Her voice broke. “He was just a boy!”
The room fell silent. For a moment, Daemon couldn’t find any words.
Neither could she.
“But they will never know,” she whispered. “What will they do? It’ll already be too late by the time they realize I’m there. Everything will burn—”
“And then what?”
His voice was calm. Too calm.
“Burn King’s Landing to the ground? Claim a throne made of ash? Kill Helaena? Her children?”
Maera flinched.
“I know how much you care for them,” Daemon continued quietly. “Gods know I’ve never understood why.” A weak laugh almost escaped him. It died before it could.
“But I know you, Maera. And I know this would destroy you long before it destroyed them.”
Her breathing trembled.
“Rhaenyra is suffering,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“And we’re doing nothing.”
“We’re surviving.”
“That’s not enough!”
She shoved his chest. Hard.
“She’s drowning and we’re discussing strategy!”Her voice echoed through the chamber. “It is our duty to help her!”
“This is not how I taught you.”
The words struck harder than any slap. Daemon stepped forward.
“If we rush into this war now, we lose.” His voice remained steady. Controlled. Rational. And somehow that only made her hate it more.
“The war all of you wanted from the very beginning!”She pushed him again.
“Cowards!”
Then she turned and stormed out.
“Every last one of us!”
⸻
After that argument, Maera stopped speaking to her father.
Entirely.
The silence between them became another wound neither knew how to heal. She attended meetings but barely spoke. She drifted through Dragonstone like a ghost.
People noticed.
How could they not?
She barely ate, barely slept. The sharpness of her face became more pronounced with each passing day. Dark circles shadowed her eyes as
her skin grew pale.
Luke’s death wasn’t simply breaking her heart.
It was consuming her.
⸻
“Couldn’t find sleep?”
Maera hummed softly as she stared into the fire. The flames danced across her tired features. It was well past midnight when Jace found her.
She sat curled before the hearth, knees tucked against her chest.
For a long moment neither spoke.
“Jace.”
His name left her lips like a sigh. He sat beside her. Close enough that their shoulders brushed.
“I’m going to King’s Landing.”
His head snapped toward her.
“What—”
“Before you say no, I need to go.”
Her voice was hollow.
“I need to see it for myself.”A tear slipped down her cheek. “And… I might want to kill Aemond.”
The confession barely rose above a whisper. Because she still couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t accept it. Aemond, her Aemond. Luke’s killer?
The thought alone felt impossible.
“Maera, are you out of your damn mind?” Jace’s voice cracked.
“You could be killed.”
“They wouldn’t.” She swallowed hard, and she didn’t know if was trying to convince him or herself.
“I need to see Helaena. Alicent.”Her eyes lowered.“This war has gone too far.”
Before he could stop himself, his hands found her face as he forced her to look at him. Her eyes were red. Her nose pink from crying.
Gods, she looked exhausted.
“Maera, please.”His voice trembled.“I lost Luke.”The words nearly broke him. “And I’m slowly losing my mother and…I feel like I’m losing every piece of myself.” His forehead pressed against hers.
“I can’t lose you too.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Painful.
Her heart ached.
“Jace—”
“Please.”His voice shattered. “I refuse.”His breathing hitched. “I refuse to lose you.”
The raw desperation in his eyes stole every argument she had prepared.
Gods.
She loved him. She loved him so much it hurt.
“I won’t—”
The relief on his face was immediate. Almost painful.
And then he kissed her.
Their first kiss.
Soft at first. Tentative. Two grieving souls clinging to one another in the dark.
Then deeper.
Needier.
As though neither could bear the thought of letting go. Jace poured every ounce of his fear, grief, and love into it. And Maera gave it back.
For one perfect moment, the world stopped hurting.
“Please,” he whispered against her lips.
“I won’t,” she promised.
The lie tasted bitter.
When they finally pulled apart, Jace rested his forehead against hers, eyes closed. Breathing uneven.
“I cannot lose you.”
A fresh wave of guilt crashed through her.
“You won’t.” She forced a smile.
“I promise.”