Summary ✩ The ones we love the most are the ones that destroy us
Warnings ✩ Angst, smut, mentions of suicide, death, canon typical incest, spoilers for Aemond’s ending
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The moon was high in the sky by the time you finally managed to sneak out, adrenaline running through your veins as you tiptoed to the dragon pit and mounted Starfyre.
You had claimed the dragon when you were only six, and by now she was more than in tune with your emotions. She felt everything that you felt, including your pain, your anger, and your desperation for her to be quiet at the moment.
It was well past the hour of the ghost, and when you had slipped from you bed chamber you had prayed to the Gods that no one would catch you.
Guards had been doubled ever since the incident had taken place. Queen Rhaenyra, who just so happened to be your stepmother, had implemented a curfew and she forbade any of her children from leaving after a certain time.
If anyone from your family found you or if they knew where you were going, you’d never be allowed out of the castle again.
Daemon would surely lock you up for the rest of your days if he knew and Rhaenyra, in her grief, would call you a traitor.
You certainly weren’t, as you loved your family more than anything in the world but there was a desperate need in your heart go where you had been called.
Though it pained you to say, you could never resist him. All your life you had spent countless amount of time running after him every time he summoned you, chasing him like some child apprehending a wild duckling.
You wanted to capture him in your heart, take him in and care for him more than you should. He did not belong to you, but you wanted him to. All your life, you had only ever wanted to love him and support him but now…
Now he had betrayed you in the worst possible way.
Now, Aemond was a Kinslayer, an animal that had lashed out and killed your baby brother of all people. Nothing would ever make up for the death of your dear Lucerys, and when you heard what Aemond had done, you collapsed.
You had always known him to be rough, to be callous and shut off from the world. Even when you first started seeing each other under the secret of night, you could tell that even his affection for you did not erase the bitterness he felt, especially for your brother.
Aemond had never once gotten over what Lucerys did to his eye and to say that you blamed him would be a lie.
You weren’t there that night but you could only imagine the damage that does to someone, accident or not.
You knew it was one of his biggest insecurities; he had confided in you and told you so. What Lucerys did had nearly destroyed Aemond, but what Aemond did to your brother was much worse.
Killing Lucerys was simply unforgivable. It was monstrous; and it was vile. It was an insult to the gods and everything that they stood for and most of all, it was an insult to you.
All you had ever done was love Aemond. You never wanted anything else or expected anything from him. You accepted him and loved even the worst parts that his own mother could not, and now…
Part of you wondered why you were even going to do this.
When he first sent you that raven, asking you to meet him in the place only the two of you knew of, you had raged and cursed him with the most vile of profanities.
Your bedchambers and everything within throwing reach had witnessed the extent of your rage, as you could not believe the sheer audacity that Aemond Targaryen possessed.
How dare he ask to see you after what he had done? How dare he even contact you, how dare he even plead for the opportunity to explain when everything you needed to know was clear?
Aemond had led a chase on Lucerys that resulted in his death.
He had murdered your brother in cold blood, hunted him down like an animal on a war dragon. It did not take a scholar to put the pieces of what happened together. The evidence of Aemond’s monstrosities laid in the broken wings of Arrax, and the fact that the only thing Rhaenyra found of Lucerys was his cloak.
And yet…
All of the rage, all of the pain and the sorrow that you felt could not compare to the sheer amount of desperation that you carried, wanting to know how the hell everything turned so sour, so fast.
One minute you were sneaking around with Aemond, planning to run away together to escape the impending war your families were planning and then the next you were receiving the news of his Kinslaying from a broken Jacaerys.
It was only your wish for answers and revenge that made you hop on your dragon and fulfill Aemond’s foolish request. You were going to meet with him and you were going to demand that he tell you what happened; demand that he spill every detail about what he did to Lucerys and why.
Why would he do such a thing when freedom was right there for the both of you? Why would he risk everything; war, death, and you just to commit the most evil act of all crimes? Did you simply not matter to him? Did he not love you like he claimed to? Did he lie to you every single time he made love to you, whispering about how much he could not wait to marry you?
You told yourself that knowing the truth would be the only way to set you free from your misery. Every day you wondered what it had been like, how Aemond had even gotten to that moment and what in the hell was he thinking.
You wondered about his mindset and what could have drove him to do such a thing. And worst of all you wondered about poor Lucerys, about how he was in his final moments.
It pained you to think that he must have been scared, and the thought of him and Arrax fleeing for their lives with no help in sight spread an ache through your chest that stole the very air from your lungs.
Luke was only four and ten, and it was bad enough to see the broken body of Arrax. You could not imagine the damage that Vhagar had done to him, nor did you want to. The one time you tried you had sent yourself into a panic and Maester Geradys had to sedate you with an emergency dose of Milk of the Poppy.
It was an awful thing for one’s mind to try and conjure up, but still, you needed to know.
The answers you sought only laid with one person; Aemond the Kinslayer. The murderer and the usurper.
You told yourself that needing answers or some type of closure to Lucerys’ death was the only reason you were flying to meet him.
In the black of night, with the wind blowing on your face and the moon shining down on you, you tried to push away any unwanted feelings that might have also been influencing you, feelings that were wrapped in guilt and pushed to the deepest depths of your heart. But they were still feelings no less.
You wondered briefly if these feelings that you still harbored for Aemond also had a role in wanting to meet him; wanting to see him even after everything he’d done.
It made you angry inside to think that the answer might have been yes, that there was another reason for you responding to his letter. It made you rage at yourself for being so stupid; for being so naïve as to still have love for the man that killed your brother.
If Lucerys could see you now, you wondered if he would blame you. You wondered if seeing his sweet older sister, who he had always looked up to from the day you met, flying to meet the man who killed him would crush him. You wondered if he’d be disappointed in you, or if he’d understand.
Luke had always been such a sweet, sensible boy. Part of you knew that if he was alive, he’d never blame you for anything.
But still, you wondered if maybe he’d ever forgive you. Or if maybe you’d ever be able to forgive yourself for what you were about to do.
As the night flew by, you wondered all of these things.
Mountains came and went, valley peaked and disappeared in the distance. It was hard to see in the darkness but you had flown in secret to this place so often that it was impossible to get lost. Starfyre could sense your emotions and you knew she’d know exactly where to take you. Dragons had a unique ability to read their rider and soon, the steady beat of your dragon’s wings matched the pounding of your heart as you flew closer and closer towards the small island near The Gullet, already able to see the shadow of a monster in the distance.
As if she could sense it as well, which you knew she could as she was a dragon, Starfyre began to whine and slowly make her descent.
Her wings flapped and the sand that occupied the small beach that you and Aemond had discovered flew up in a frenzy underneath her weight.
Starfyre screeched as another creature made its presence known in the darkness, and as soon as you stepped foot onto the sand, she backed away.
You didn’t bother to try and soothe her because everything you felt, she did as well and you knew that there was no taming the flurry of emotions in your chest. A mixture of sadness, anger and grief ran its way through your veins, but one thing that you did lack was fear.
If anything, Starfyre was way smarter than you for wanting to run at the sight of danger because it was more than you could say.
Despite your heartbeat circling through your eardrums, and despite all of the emotions that you felt about being there, you still weren’t afraid as you walked through the darkness of the night.
Sand crunched underneath your boots and the howl of the ocean had you hugging yourself tighter. Waves crashed upon waves and with sorrow, you wondered if one of them might have been carrying Lucerys.
What a twist of fate that would be; having his body wash on the shore right in front of his killer. The irony of that would have rivaled the excruciating pain you would have felt if that was to happen, but deep down you knew that it wouldn’t.
Lucerys had been eaten, swallowed whole by the very monster that you gazed upon now.
Despite everything, you did not feel fear as you looked at Vhagar, a bittersweet emotion filling your chest.
Once upon she had been your favorite dragon in the world. Back when you were a child, back when everything was okay, Vhagar had been the one to introduce you to dragon riding.
Your mother, the late Lady Laena, used to take you, Baela and Rhaena with her before you had dragons of your own. You had fond memories of you clinging to your mother as you rode through the skies, laugher and happiness filling the atmosphere.
Back then, you never would have imagined that your mother would die and the man that claimed Vhagar next would lose an eye doing so. You certainly did not ever imagine holding Vhagar in such distain, looking at her in disgust as the creature roared and hissed towards the skies.
Once upon a time she was your favorite dragon in the world. Now, she would forever be known by you as the monster that killed your brother.
There would be no more fond memories when you thought about her. Only fire and death and the regret that it wasn’t you she faced on the night of Luke’s death.
If Starfyre had been the one flying through the storm that night, much would have been different. She was faster and older than Arrax, and she would have been able to hold her own against the killers that were pursing her. And, if it had been you who faced Aemond that night, much would have changed.
Luke would still be alive and the life that you had planned with Aemond would be happening right now. You’d be living in a dream right now instead of the nightmare that you couldn’t seem to wake up from.
But, you had insisted that you be the one who carried that message to Lady Jeyne, under the guise that a woman might earn her trust easier than a man would. But secretly, it was because you wished for Lucerys to take the shorter, safer route.
You had seen how nervous he was and when you announced that you’d take the longer route to the Eyrie, the relief on his and Rhaenyra’s face was evident. You thought you were doing Luke a favor by letting him fly to Storm’s End. Never did any of you imagine that Aemond would be there waiting for him, and never did you imagine coming home to the news everything had gone wrong.
If your brother’s shorter, ‘safer,’ flight had gone better, much would have been different.
He would’ve been alive, and you…you would have been happy.
But alas, the Gods take just as they give. You should have known that the life you were planning with Aemond wasn’t going to work out. The both of you abandoning your duties to be with each was a fairy dream; the wishings of ignorant children who knew nothing about the world.
You could not run from your fates any faster than your brother could have outrun his death.
It was inevitable; and now as you stood in front of the one who ruined it all, the one who took your life of happiness and traded it for the satisfaction of killing your kin instead, you did not know what to say.
For what could you say to the monster that killed your brother, when he wore the face of the one you loved the most?
—
“I did not think that you would come.”
It was him that spoke first. Soft and gentle, with a kindness that sent rage through your bones and love to your heart.
Aemond stood in front of you, and a whirlwind of emotions hit you like bricks. Sadness, grief, anger, love. They all raged inside of you like a storm that could not be tamed.
You did not know what to do as you stared at him, grief and madness in your eyes. A part of you wanted to kill him; take your sword and drive it through his heart or use Starfyre to burn him where he stood.
It would certainly satisfy the anger and the need for vengeance inside of you.
Another part of you, however, hesitated.
The part of you that loved this man, the part that would absolutely die if anything were to happen to him, prevented you from doing such.
It both annoyed and disgusted you to know that this side of you still existed, to know that a part of you still loved him even after when he’d done.
Even after he’d killed—no, hunted your little brother down like an animal—a part of you still yearned for Aemond Targaryen.
And it was this part of you that made you come here tonight. This part of you that made you step forward, your face a mask of grief and betrayal as you stared at Aemond.
“You were stupid to invite me here,” Was the first thing that you said, and both you and Aemond knew this wasn’t a lie.
You could’ve easily set a trap; ambushed him and won Rhaenyra the war in a day. You could have brought a whole army or at least a guard to help you stop this madness of a war once and for all.
But you didn’t.
You knew that he was surprised that you had truly come alone, and you could see it on his face that he was visibly relaxed at your lone presence.
It made you angry.
“Did you not think that I would be capable of killing you by myself?” You continued. “Why would you send me a letter with your exact location knowing that I could have ambushed you, or worse?”
“Because I held hope that you wouldn’t.”
Aemond answered, and hearing his voice affected you more than you cared to admit.
A small scoff left your lips as you snarled at him, a poor attempt to hide the affect he really had on you. “And why is that, uncle?” You asked him venomously.
He answered again. “Because you love me.”
Your throat closed up as he stepped closer, your heart pounding in your chest as Luke’s murderer cupped your cheek. Softly, his pale fingers ran themselves over your lips, feeling your skin as it heated from his touch.
A quiet hum left his lips as you trembled. “I see not much has changed in the past few weeks,” Aemond observed. “Your skin is the same. Your lips still soft. Though…your eyes are sadder than usual. And for that, I am sorry.”
You reeled back as Aemond hung his head, suddenly reminded by the reason you were there. Taking a step back, you trembled in anger as fire coursed through your veins.
“I hate you,” You spit venomously.
“I know.”
“I should kill where you stand,” You continued, fingers twitching towards your sword. Everything in you was aching to do it, but yet, it was aching not to do it all the same. Aemond sighed.
“Then why haven’t you?” He questioned. “Why is there not a blade currently embedded in my chest? What is stopping you?” And you hated yourself, because you both knew the answer to that.
“Because you’re right,” You whispered, shame filling your every vessel as you admitted it. “Because I still love you, and I am not ready to say goodbye.”
It was too much. The loss that you had suffered already from Luke nearly crippled you, and you did not think that you could handle it if you lost him too.
Try as you might, Aemond still held a piece of you that you could not live without. A piece of your heart that if damaged, would never survive such turmoil. Not again.
“Then don’t,” Aemond whispered. “Aōha jorrāelagon, please. Let us not do this.”
You whimpered as his hands came to touch you again. One last time. You promised yourself that you’d only let him do this one last time.
“I have to,” You said tearfully, “For my brother. I can’t let you get away with this, Aemond. You had your revenge. And I will have mine.”
And Aemond, knowing there was no way out of this, sighed.
“I know. But at least…at least allow me to hold you. One last time.”
Silently, he stepped forward. The distance between the two of you got smaller and smaller until finally, you found yourself all but melting into his arms, hating yourself as you engaged in a kiss.
Aemond’s lips were soft, and yours were wet; tears of sadness and guilt spilling over as you embraced the man that had killed Lucerys.
Embraced his murderer like it was the last thing you’d ever do, because it was.
After tonight, you’d be dead, and so would Aemond. You both knew this as you kissed one another, knowing that the hands that touched you would be the same hands responsible for your downfall.
It had to happen. There was no other way. But for now, you both trembled in each other’s arms, soft skin against soft skin as your lips moved against his.
Gently, you sank to the sand and allowed Aemond to explore your body. It had been so long that you’d forgotten just how much you loved it when he touched you, digging his fingers into the soft skin of your stomach.
You felt Aemond fumbling with the clasps on your tunic before he pulled it off, exposing your body to the warm, windy night.
The cool air along with his touch made you shiver, but you weren’t cold. In fact, everything inside of you felt like it was on fire, your blood alight and dancing from the flames.
You kissed Aemond deeper, laying down as he hovered over you. The soft lull of the waves calmed your beating heart, allowing you to relax as you both undressed.
It was dark, but you could still see the outline of his beautiful body in the moonlight. A lean figure, decorated with sharp, chiseled muscles and an even more gorgeous cock.
You could feel it as it hardened against you, Aemond pressing his body into yours to be closer. Breaking the kiss, he took a little time to look over you; savoring you, drinking you in for one last time.
You smiled sadly when his violet eye met yours. Behind it, you could see regret, passion, guilt, relief brewing.
Aemond had always been a complex, complicated individual. It was hard to read him, and that was partly what drew you towards him. You wanted to know the man behind the eyepatch, Aemond and not the ‘The Prince.’
But now, he was vulnerable. For the first time in a long time you could read him perfectly, and he could read you.
You were completely bare before one another, wrapped in a cocoon of anger, sadness, trepidation at what was to come. But there was also love. A lot of it. You could see it in the way he looked at you. Feel it in his soft touches and the way he tenderly said,
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
You pressed your forehead against his; wondering, wanting and feeling guilty for desiring such things. Feeling horrible for craving the man you were supposed to hate, for loving the one who’d killed your brother.
Shame ate away at you as much as the pleasure did when Aemond finally entered you.
He was soft, slow and gentle and you moaned as you wrapped your legs around his torso. Your hands came up to grab him, your lips finding his. Together, you were connected in a way that neither of you would ever understand.
He was like an addiction, a bad habit that you loved but couldn’t quit. You just couldn’t get enough of the way he made you feel, and you knew it would be your downfall. You knew, and yet you accepted him still, eager as his cock drove in and out of you.
The pleasure that ran through your body was a good distraction, and Aemond was the most intoxicating part of all. You could barely think of anything but him, lost to your own desires and love.
It felt good to be underneath him. It felt good to share this with him one last time.
On that beach, in that moment with the moon at its highest and the waves at their lowest, all you could see and feel and touch was Aemond. You knew nothing else, no sadness, no war or grief as he brought you to your peak. Your mind was silent for the first time in weeks, your lips forming an ‘O’ shape as your eyes rolled to the back of your head.
You whined so loud that the Bar Emmon’s across the sea could’ve heard you.
Even if they had, it wouldn’t have mattered to you. In that moment, nothing did except for you and Aemond and the sybaritism that was being shared between the two of you.
It eclipsed all else; even hate and suffering. It consumed you to the point of oblivion. You panted as Aemond stilled inside of you, feeling dizzy as he spilled his seed. You thought that there was no greater feeling than being connected to him like this, two halves of a whole finally reunited again.
But, like any high, you had to come down.
And afterwards, as you laid on the sand and listened to the drum of Aemond’s heartbeat in his chest, you couldn’t help yourself.
“Tell me how it happened,” You whispered suddenly, grief paralyzing your heart. Now that the feelings of ecstasy had faded away, you felt it creeping in once again, squeezing you to the point where you felt you were going to suffocate. “Tell me how Lucerys died.”
Immediately, you felt his touch on your body stop. Aemond had been rubbing circles alongside your back, trying to soothe you, in a way. But he froze as the question took him off guard.
“Y/N…” There was warning tone in his voice, a desperate plea not to peruse the details of the crime that had ruined everything. “Please, do not ask about this. Not now.”
But you had to. You had to know. It was why you came, after all.
“Aemond, please, just tell me. You owe me that much.”
You stared at him, and you could see the resolve crumbling again. Fading away until Aemond was vulnerable again, unable to meet your eye as you pleaded. “Was he…was he scared?”
Soft lips came to brush against the skin of your neck. You trembled as you heard his voice in the dark, Aemond sighing as he lightly kissed against your skin.
“No. He was…he was brave, until the very end,” He said quietly, and you sucked in a breath as a tear rolled down your cheek.
“Gods.”
Silently, you buried your face in his neck and sobbed against Aemond. He held you, and it felt wrong to seek comfort with the one responsible for your pain.
If he had just…well, you didn’t know. There were many rumors surrounding the details of Luke’s death, and each one was more painful than the last.
Some say that he arrived at Storm’s End and Aemond was immediately out for blood. Other’s say that it was a verbal confrontation that lead to it, but the only one that could truly tell you what happened, the one who truly had the answers you seeked, was Aemond.
“Why? Why would you…why would you even…? How…?”
So many words wished to leave your tongue at once. They fought against one another, crawling from the back of your throat and getting stuck every time you tried to spit them out.
You had a hard time between that and sobbing getting out what you really wanted to say.
Aemond though, knew you like the back of his hand. He hesitated for a moment before answering, your silent question not a mystery to him.
“I…” The silence took over, and in it, guilt simmered. “I was foolish,” He admitted, not having the courage to even look at you while he recounted the tale. “I was angry, and embarrassed. I—I let it get the best of me, thinking about all that he had done while I was atop Vhagar. I suppose what they say is true, that dragons really can sense their rider’s feelings. I didn’t commend her to, but suddenly I found myself chasing them. Through the storm, I taunted him, and the boy’s dragon took offense to that. He blew fire in an effort to protect him and Vhagar responded as any dragon would have. And as for me...”
He stopped.
I’m sorry.
Those were the unspoken words on his lips, but he never said them. Aemond couldn’t even force himself to apologize for what he had done, as pathetic as it was, and instead in lingered in the air and wrapped around you like a noose.
By the time his tale was over, you were sobbing louder, shaking your head as if you were trying to physically expel the imagery you your mind had conjured up.
“Was he…was he in pain?”
You managed to blubber the words out. As painful as his death was, the only thing that would make it worse was if Lucerys had suffered.
Aemond shook his head. “No. Vhagar was quick.”
You shuddered as you closed your eyes again, remembering that the very dragon was merely feet away from you. You could hear her chortling and growling through the wind and you loathed her presence and cherished it all the same, knowing that it was the closest you would ever be to Lucerys again.
“Good. Good.”
At least he did not suffer. At least Lucerys never even knew of his own fate. But did that make it better, truly?
Lucerys was spared, but what about the rest of you? What about the people that had not died as quickly as he did, the people that were stuck and left behind with the knowledge of his fate?
What about them? Did it make it any better to hear that he went quick, when it still meant that he was dead? After all, a quick death still meant a death all the same.
You sniffled as you pondered this.
Above you, the skies crackled and the dragons growled uneasily but you and Aemond reminded the same, wrapped up in one another but distant.
Despite the proximity to him, despite the warmth of his skin and the heat of his body, you had never felt more disconnected and cold towards him.
And despite the love in your veins, the aching in your heart that desired revenge like no other, you had never hated Aemond Targaryen more and you had never wanted him dead less.
Aemond knew this. He was no fool.
He could see it in your eyes the moment you had landed here. He had seen the rage, the anger, the need to have revenge. Hells, he had felt it once, on that day at Storm’s End, and it had drove him nearly to madness. It had drove him to kill your brother, and now the same emotions were going to drive you to do the same.
He did not discuss this. You did not say it aloud. It was an open secret between the two of you as you existed in a delicate balance of delusion and being faced with the reality that neither of you would survive past tomorrow.
And when the sky broke, dawn light streaming down on your bodies that had been locked together all night, you and Aemond finally found the courage to look at one another, for it would be the very last time you did so.
Gently, your fingers reached out to tangle in his hair. His did the same. You traced his cheeks, his lips, his eye that you so desperately wished he could see out of because maybe if he could, none of this would be happening.
Oh, how you wished you could go back to that fateful day. You wished that you would have woken up when Lucerys had called. When Jacaerys had tried to shake you awake but you told him go away and now, you were here.
Your lips trembling as you traced your lovers face for the last time, trying to memorize it in your bones because you knew that they would be the only thing left of you.
Your heart, your mind would all cease to exist. Never to beat again, never to think again, but your bones would remain and you hoped that the memory of his face would stay with them. Deep inside, you knew that you’d still crave him even when you were dead so you greedily drank him, savor every last drop of Aemond Targaryen until it was time for him to die.
When it was, you were both silent.
You’re not sure how, but the moment came when you finally released one another, getting dressed and standing in silence on that beach.
You didn’t speak, either of you, but somehow you still said goodbye.
Then, without a word, you sniffled as you walked back to Starfyre, sobbing as you mounted your dragon one last time.
You took a deep breath as you saw Aemond doing the same, Vhagar letting out a mighty roar as she stretched her wings and rose into the sky.
You did not hesitate to follow, commanding Starfyre in a rush. You knew that you had to act quick. You and to do this now. If you didn’t, if you stopped to think or feel for one second, then you would back out.
You would collapse into the sand sobbing, never to get up again, and you had promised. You promised Licerys that you would get your revenge.
And so, with that thought, you muttered the command.
“Sōves.”
Quickly, you held on for dear life as your dragon acended the skies, letting out a screech as she did so. You knew that after being bonded for years, Starfyre could feel your emotions.
She could feel your heartache, the pain that you carried. She knew of the anger in your bones and your desire for revenge. The knowledge that you could not live with what Aemond had done, but you could not live without him either. It was what guided her through the clouds, into the direction that Vhagar went without fear.
But most importantly, Starfyre felt your goodbye.
There were tears in your eyes as she turned her head around to look at you, a glimmer of what looked liked a farewell in her golden eyes. Without missing a beat, she flew up and up until the ocean looked no more like a pond and the clouds covered everything you could see.
It was there, in the depth of the sky, a place between the heavens and the earth, that you found Vhagar and Ameond waiting.
Her massive body was hard to miss, and though he was nothing but a spec on a such a large, magnificent beast, you could still feel his presence.
You imagined that he was looking at you now, feeling the same thing as you were. Regret. Guilt. Wonder at what could have been and anger at what would never be. You imagined that if you could hear him speak, he’d be pleading with you not to do this. Pleading to spare your life and his own, but you wouldn’t.
You couldn’t.
You had to do this, and somewhere across the skies you imagined him saying,
“I know.”
There is no other way.
“I know.”
I’m sorry.
“I know.”
And he did.
For Aemond did not run as he waited for you in the clouds. And you did not flee.
Even as the massive green dragon roared and spit fury that would’ve shaken anyone else down to their bones, you simply gritted your teeth and flew towards her.
With a crack of your whip and a shattered cry, you muttered the last command in High Valyrian that you would ever speak.
“Angõs, Starfyre.”
And without another word, a mighty roar sounded as the younger dragon descended upon Vhagar, her jaws outstretched and ready to drag down the beast that killed her blood.
Arrax was her kin too; her brother, her blood. It made sense that in some way, she knew. She knew that the dragon in front of her was responsible for his death, and she knew just as you did that neither she nor her rider could live after what they’d done.
Though you’d tried to deny it, tried to hide in your sweet memories and dreams of what could have been, this had always been the reality.
From the moment you heard about Aemond’s betrayal, you knew that nothing in this world would ever soothe that ache. Nothing would ever bring Lucerys back. Nothing would ever soothe your need for revenge, for justice unless you got it yourself.
Nothing in the world would ever heal your heart if you lost Aemond. And you knew when you lost him, you’d have to lose yourself, too.
You could not exist with him and you could not exist without him, so this was the only way.
With a cry, you jerked in your saddle as the two dragons made contact, Vhagar roaring as the younger attached teeth to her neck.
Battle trained and ready, she blew fire towards the threat that was hotter than a thousand flames and you yelled at they threatened to consume you.
With another jerk of the reigns, you signaled Starfyre to pull back, hiding behind her wings as best as you could to escape death.
It wasn’t time; not yet.
You still had much higher to go, willing the dragon to flee into the clouds until she was so high that you could barely breathe. Clawing for breath, you didn’t even bother looking to see if Vhagar had followed. You knew that she had.
It was only a matter of time, but the hoary old bitch was slow, and you weren’t as vulnerable as Lucerys had been.
You were anticipating her attack and you wouldn’t be a sitting duck and wait for her jaws to consume you when she did. You wouldn’t wait for death like your brother, wouldn’t linger around for it to catch you.
No, you were going to end this now.
Dark Sister threatened to fall from your side as you gave another shout, ordering Starfyre to descend as fast as she could.
You flew through the skies on her back like a flaming arrow, your aim true and your impact deadly.
With a sound that nearly shook the skies, the two dragons clashed, and it sounded like a thunderstorm in the clouds. A bloody storm filled with teeth and hate. With claws and vengeance.
The sky lit up with a color that was as red as blood, bleeding as the mighty dragon Vhagar did beneath you.
She screeched as Starfyre’s teeth sank into her neck, jaws tight and her speed deadly.
It took everything you had to stay on her back as the two dragons danced and fell through the sky. It was maddening to feel the very earth become absent from beneath you; to feel death so close and to welcome it.
At one point, Starfyre ripped a hole in Vhagar’s belly with her claws. In turn, Vhagar’s teeth bit at her right wing, so hard to the point where it fell from Starfyre’s body—falling down, down, down…until it was swallowed by the sea.
A glimpse into your own fate, perhaps, and as the sky broke, and the dragon’s fell, you knew that the end was near.
Later, when the Lord’s of High Tide and Bar Emmon finally recovered Prince Aemond’s body, it was said that many weeped at the scene.
He was found with Dark Sister through his eye, the same one Lucerys Velaryon had taken, and the dragon princess that killed him was found wrapped around him, her bones still curled as if she was protecting him. As if she was trying to hold on to him one last time before death took her as well.
No one ever knew if the tale had been true. No one ever knew if the stories of the Dragon Princess and the Kinslayer that loved her had been actually happened.
And after many, many years, no one knew about the Princess and Aemond Targaryen at all.
They became forgotten in the passage of time, but in the depths of their bones, they would always remember. Trapped together for eternity, the Dragon Princess and the Prince that loved her would always serve as a cautionary tale of what happens when the ones we love the most, are the ones to destroy us.
please note minors are not allowed to interact with nsfw content. if i find out you will be blocked!
before you enter: please keep in mind that i have clearly stated my smut works are 18+. minors are NOT allowed and remember, you are responsible for your own media consumption!
some works may contain not safe for work themes and also dark themes. please be aware.
please note minors are not allowed to interact with nsfw content. if i find out you will be blocked!
before you enter: please keep in mind that i have clearly stated my smut works are 18+. minors are NOT allowed and remember, you are responsible for your own media consumption!
some works may contain not safe for work themes and also dark themes. please be aware.
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one shots.
Odd One Out
Your beloved husband, Valarr of House Targaryen, is feeling insecure about his many differences from his family. With you being the good wife you are, you decide to take drastic measures to make him feel not so alone [fluff | husband!valarr]
Champions Reward
Your husband fights valiantly at the tourney, unhorsing many Lords and Knights. It’s only fair to reward him for being a champion [smut | public sex | husband!valarr]
Family Affair
After two years of being married, you and Valarr have never had a fight this big—until now. Distant and cold to one another, your family devises a scheme to get you back together [fluff | humor | crack fic | slight angst]
series.
Beneath the Willow Tree (AO3)
Eleven years ago, Lord Paris of House Willowbrook saved Prince Baelor’s life on the Red Grass field. He was deemed a hero by the realm for slaying the last of Daemon Blackfyre’s heirs. Eleven years later, Prince Baelor offers the hand of his first born son, Prince Valarr, to repay House Targaryen’s debt [angst with a happy ending | unrequited love | au | valarr x original character]
I read your fanfic beneath the willow tree and I cannot even put it into words how much I love it. Your writing truly is beautiful and so well put if u know what I mean. I have reread it like four times(or more) and cannot wait for chapter 8!!! And all the chapters after ofc.
But the more Kiera pops up the more I wonder why is she there? Like no hate to her and stuff, I understand her a little when I really really put my mind to it yk, cause I can’t blame her for liking Valarr. But she was there bc she had a purpose, then obvi she was no longer needed. Though she still there. So does the king just let her roam the castle as she likes? Why isn’t she in Tyrosh or smth. She doesn’t even go here?!?
bestie I have feeling you’d get along great with the small council bc they’re wondering the same thing 😭 it’s gonna be touched on a little bit in chapter 8 so I don’t wanna give too much away :) I’m very glad that you’re enjoying the story so far though and I appreciate the support! Thank you for the sweet compliments 🥹💕
please just bring back a knight of the seven kingdoms. i miss the whimsy and cannot deal with the hotd shit and people once again showing their ass by being straight up misogynistic and racist
I just wanted to say I really love your fanfic beneath the willowtree! One of the things that makes me like it so much is that it feels like you put a lot of thought into the way you write. I was rereading it and I noticed how in the beginning chapters both Daella and valarr find the name sadie funny so that’s a little way to show they’re more alike than they think and valarr hasn’t really grasped that yet. I also love the detail about how kierra is taller than daella so valarr and kiera kind of fit awkwardly when they hug but when daella hugs valarr it feels right. I also enjoy when in chapter 6 kiera asks valarr how he slept and valarr thinks that she knows him deeply and better than anyone else but he realizes kiera doesn’t really ask out of concern for him she asks to make sure he wasn’t doing anything with daella. I’m really excited to read more chapters!
Also I wanted to ask, do you have an idea of where you want the story to go? Or do you already have like certain things you want in the story loanned out? Your writing is very organized and to me it seems thoughtfully planned out from what I’ve read so far!❤️
comment like this literally make my whole week, you have no idea 🥹🩷 i’m so happy you noticed the little details bc i personally think it’s what makes their relationship so special. they’re literally made for each other but valarr just doesn’t see it yet! and yes i do know where i’m taking the story. i actually have it all mapped out and an outline for each chapter! i’m just really busy rn because i’m about to graduate so i haven’t had a lot of time to just sit down and write but when school is done i can’t wait for you to read more!
not to beat a very dead horse but i will always defend jace and luke being legitimate to my last breath because as a writer there’s no way george put that kind of symbolism (them dying with their dragons AT sea) for no reason. joffery is probably harwin’s but the first two? idc argue with your mama those boys are laenor’s kids. i just don’t understand why he’d do that if they weren’t
OMG I’m just rereading chapter 7 and Daella and Valarr remind of Leia Organa and Han Solo in the picnic scene when daella says “I love you” and valarr replies with “I know”. It also made me realized that Valarr never really says it back to her ☹️. Will we ever find out if there was anything sketchy done to Daella’s tea that her sister gave her the chapter prior? Also, love this fic it’s the best valarr fic I’ve ever read!
thank you for reading!! 💕 i don’t wanna give too much away but i will say Cruaella hasn’t exactly had a change of heart 🤭 all will be revealed in the next few chapters
please note minors are not allowed to interact with nsfw content. if i find out you will be blocked!
before you enter: please keep in mind that i have clearly stated my smut works are 18+. minors are NOT allowed and remember, you are responsible for your own media consumption!
some works may contain not safe for work themes and also dark themes. please be aware.
──── ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧ ────
oneshots.
Prove It To You
You and your betrothed, Jacaerys Velaryon, are a love match. A feat that has upset many of the people vying for your hand, including Jason Lannister. When he makes a snide comment about Jacaerys not knowing how to please you properly, it’s up to the future king to prove him wrong [betrothed!jace | smut]
Worth The Wait
Jace spends your entire courtship denying you the pleasures of what you really want. Now that it’s the night of your wedding, he has every intention of making it worth the wait [husband!jace | smut]
Morning Desires
The beauty of Targaryen men is often said to be irresistible, and Jacaerys is no exception. After waking up early one morning, you find that you cannot, in fact, resist your gorgeous husband [smut | husband!jace]
Beacon of Hope
After the war, Jacaerys finally finds his purpose for living again [fluff | husband!jace | slight spoilers]
The Sowing of Seeds
Ulf the White was an imbecile in Jacaerys’ eyes. A drunk and an unworthy dragon rider. However, the Prince finds that his sweet daughter might not be so bad [smut | mean!jace | virgin!reader]
Court Shenanigans
Missing their father, your children decide it’s a good idea to interrupt him in the middle of court [fluff | dad!jace | pregnant!reader]
Rotten Soil, Rotten Fruit
You are Alicent Hightower’s pride and joy. Sweet and innocent, you’re the apple of the Queen’s eye more than her own children are. But how will she react when you slip into the hands of her enemies? [forbidden love | pregnant!reader]
First Impressions
If you want to make a good impression on your boyfriend’s family, then you probably shouldn’t get caught naked together [modern!jace | smut | crack fic]
Starry Nights
Jace takes his little family on a night ride when they can’t sleep [dad!jace | fluff ]
Penelope
The aftermath of the Battle of the Gullet [jace lives au | angst with a happy ending]
headcanons.
Unexpected [nsfw]
Husband Jace [sfw/nsfw]
drabbles.
Mistaking Dragonseed!Reader for Baela [smut]
series.
The Story of Us
The story of Jacaela told in shorts, only this time fate isn’t as cruel [jacaela | au | mature]
It is said that Jacaerys Velaryon leapt free and clung to a piece of smoking wreckage for a few heartbeats, until some crossbowmen on the nearest Myrish ship began loosing quarrels at him. The prince was struck once, and then again. More and more Myrmen brought crossbows to bear. Finally one quarrel took him through the neck, and Jace was swallowed by the sea.
summary ✩ The aftermath of the Battle of the Gullet
warnings ✩ season three spoilers, angst with a happy ending, cope fic
A/N ✩ Yall I cried so hard this episode. I’m still crying. I knew it was coming for four years and I still was not ready. This is what happens when an author can’t cope with angst lol so this fic is canon
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The waiting is the worst part.
You think, out of everything, that sitting in that chair and just…waiting for something to happen is the most painful part. Watching as the sun rises and falls each night, yet nothing come out of it. Watching as the maids and the Maesters come and go, each of them more sympathetic than the last.
You don’t say out it out loud, too tired and too anxious to speak, but you hate the way that they stare at you. You hate to see their pity. The way their faces twist like they’re expecting you to crumble at any second, tiptoeing around you as if you’re cracked glass ready to fall apart.
You’d overhead the Grand Maester whispering that he has Milk of the Poppy on the standby for when you finally collapse. For that moment when the weight of the situation finally falls upon your shoulders, and the reality that your lover, your husband, might not ever wake up sinks in.
It’s been weeks now, and Jace still has yet to open his eyes. The Grand Maester still isn’t quite sure why, but you know it has something to do with the arrows he took during the battle.
The Battle of the Gullet was a treacherous affair, with victory earned only through fire and blood and Jace’s own sacrifice. He had locked his mother, the Queen, in her chambers and taken his dragon to fight, and had he not then Lord Corlys and his ships surely would have been lost.
He had saved his grandsire’s beloved fleet, a fleet that was a part of his own legacy, but in turn, he suffered grave injuries.
Rhaena had told you through tears what happened.
She had fallen to your feet and begged for your forgiveness, weeping that it was all her fault.
She could not contain Sheepstealer and the dragon had gone rouge. It started to burn Velaryon ships, not knowing friend from foe, and Jace had tried to stop it. He and Vermax perused her before realizing that it was Rhaena, but in fleeing, he flew too low.
Baela had managed to save him the first time. The archers of the Triarchy took advantage the second. They hooked the young dragon as if Vermax was no more than trout and they dragged him into the sea. The dragon had tried its best to escape, but it was already injured and it was too late to fly again. He and Jace went crashing into the open water, but miraculously Jace managed to leap free.
As any Velaryon with salt in their veins, he swam to safety and he almost made it. Baela had also told you through her own tears, when it became too much for Rhaena, that he had managed to find a stray piece of driftwood and kept afloat. He clung to it, waiting to be recused, but by the time Baela and Moondancer came, it was too late.
Jace had suffered wounds that would have killed any other man. They should have killed him. Three arrows he had taken; one in his back, one in his chest, and one through the side of his neck. By the sheer grace of the Gods, they hadn’t killed him, but you had sobbed upon realizing that meant he would have seen them coming. He would have been alone, drifting in the middle of the sea, getting shot at but helpless to stop it.
The very image was enough to give you nightmares. You’d never forget that mental picture. Of Jace, clinching for his life and pierced with arrows like a ragdoll. It was another mercy that you weren’t there when they brought his body home. You had been locked in your chambers like Rhaenyra.
By the time they came to deliver the news, you were already numb, half drowned in a puddle of your own tears. Your fists were raw and bloody from pounding on the metal. Your fingernails were gone. You had screamed and clawed and cried so much that you supposed that’s why when they did finally break the news, Baela telling you herself with a bowed head, you didn’t do anything.
You couldn’t do anything except nod, silently following her to Jace’s broken body. He was unconscious by the time you finally saw him again, and his wounds had been bandaged. The maids had done a wonderful job at cleaning away majority of the blood from him, but you could still smell it. You could still see the faint traces of red splattered over his delicate skin, painting him in violent little freckles.
You could still taste it when you bent down to kiss his cheeks, not even sobbing when you barely felt warmth in them. He was cold to the touch and the fire in his blood had been extinguished. He was a flame that had been burned out by the Triarchy, but you had faith, you begged, you prayed that it would light again.
Day and night you stayed by his side, and day and night you waited for your sun to rise.
You waited to finally see those brown eyes you loved so much again. To hear him say that he loves you. More than anything else you wished to hear his voice, reassuring you that everything would be okay but-
His voice…oh Gods.
You weren’t sure if you would ever hear it again.
The arrow in his neck had gone deep and the Grand Maester said that speaking would be unlikely. You sweet prince might never utter a single word again, but as much as it tore your heart to pieces to think about, you were just thankful that he could still breathe.
So long as he could draw breath then nothing else seemed to matter. So long as he was alive. You’d take any version of him, voiceless or not, if it meant getting to hold him one last time. It was cruel that already you had forgotten what it was like. You had forgotten his touch. You had taken it for granted because you never thought things would come to this.
It wasn’t supposed to end this way. You were supposed to end with happy days.
Queen Rhaenyra was so close to getting her throne back. She was supposed to retake King’s Landing.
All would be well and the usurper would be dead, and you and Jace would be happy like he always promised.
You had been so close but yet…
Three weeks weeks went by, and Jace still had not woken.
Though he doesn’t say it, and he would never dare to in your presence, you can almost feel what the Grand Maester is thinking. That the odds of your lover waking up are getting slimmer and slimmer. You can see it in the way in the way visits with Jace have gotten fewer. His eyes have become sadder too, as if he knows, deep down inside that your prince will never wake again, but he is too afraid and too weak to say anything.
He continues his daily visits and changes Jace’s bandages faithfully, even offering you words of encouragement. He tells you not to give up, that the Gods could bless you any moment, but it’s not the same. Promises of Jace waking up and cheerful words mean nothing when he still lies half dead.
In the time that you’ve been sitting by his side, you have began to memorize him. You’d always thought that you knew of every nook and cranny, of every freckle and scar, but now that you’ve done nothing except for stare at him, you realize that you know nothing.
You didn’t know that Jace had a freckle under his lip.
You didn’t know he had tiny scar on his upper forearms.
You suspect by the depth and the crescent shapes that they might have been from Vermax. From sometime when Jace and the dragon were still young, unsure of each other.
You will be sure to ask if he wakes up—no, when he wakes up—but for the time being, you grapple with the reality that you barely know anything about him.
You and Jace have had so little time, so few moments and it terrifies you that might not get any more than what you have.
There are still so many things left to know, so many things left to be said, but the opportunity to do so may have passed. Just thinking about brings you an unfathomable amount of pain. It is nearly too much to handle.
Your only saving grace the past few weeks has been little Aegon. He is the only one that visits Jace.
Rhaenyra, in her grief, has spiraled into madness and has decided to lock herself in her room. She will not come out, too devastated by the loss of her other children to see her fragile eldest son. Ser Lorent reports that she would rather be alone, that it is an order to not disturb Her Grace. Gods only know the devastation she must be feeling so you let her be, and hope that she can find it in herself to visit one day.
Baela has not come to see him either. You cannot blame her. She is too busy on Driftmark, escaping her pain and guilt by helping her Grandsire to rebuild. She sends letters from time to time giving the council updates, but they are all formal. None of them even mention Jace.
If you had not known her so well, perhaps you might have taken offense to this. You might have taken offense to the fact that Baela has not come to see her own brother, but you know that you could never blame her. After all, she is the one that had to bring his body back. She is the one that witnessed it all. She told you once, before she left, that when she pulled Jace out of the water she thought that he was dead.
She mourned him the entire flight back to Dragonstone, and she collapsed when she found out that he was still alive. It is because of her efforts that Jace is even lying here, but you know that Baela will not be able to take it if he does not wake up.
She will not be able to handle watching him die again, and so she stays away, hoping to ease the pain with distance.
Her sister stays away with her out of guilt. You know that Rhaena thinks it’s her fault.
You have tried to tell her repeatedly that it isn’t, that such things happen when there’s war, but she won’t listen.
Ever the dragon, she is stubborn and has convinced herself that she is not welcome. Only a few days after arriving, she mounted Sheepstealer and you have not seen either of them since.
Where they are you cannot say, but you hope that wherever she is, Rhaena is not in pain.
You hope that your family, as broken and as desolate as it may be, will be okay again. Jace’s accident has shaken everyone to their core, but you keep it together because you are the only one left. If you fall apart, if you give up hope, then Jace will truly have nothing left. You stay by his side, even if it is painful, because you know that someone has to believe in him. Someone has to hold his hand and guide him back to where he is needed, and whether that takes weeks, months, or years, you are determined to be there.
You are determined to anchor yourself as long as it takes, and in the meantime little Aegon waits with you.
It is not often that he will sit by your side, silent as he snuggles into your warmth, but sometimes when the sun is low and the six year old has become restless, his exasperated maids will get tired of his begging and take him to see his brother.
You know more than anyone that he and Viserys worship the ground that Jace walks on, and his absence has been hard on the them both. Viserys is still too young to understand, and too young to fathom what is happening, but Aegon does.
At the very least, he knows that Jace has been injured and he knows that he might not wake up. As much as you have tried to hide the grim truth about the situation, the little boy is too smart for his own good.
He could tell by the way you spoke that something was off. He could tell that your smile did not reach your eyes.
Once, he even asked you bluntly if Jace was going to die, and the only thing you could do was stare numbly and say,
“I pray he does not.”
You have tried to not let him see your own emotions, but it is hard to keep them in check. It is hard to pretend that you are not constantly worried and heartsick with anxiety. You are already terrified that you and Jace will run out of time, but equally you are just as afraid that Aegon will too.
You are afraid that six short years is the only time he will get with his brother, and the idea makes your stomach twist. It makes you want to burst into tears at the thought of their precious time getting cut short, and so you do your best to make the most of it.
Even though Jace is not awake, you still try and find ways for Aegon to spend time with him. Mainly it is though story time. You’ll pick out a book and allow Aegon to curl into your lap, holding onto Jace’s hand while you read to him.
It is calming for you both, and on one night in particular, you decided to read him a story to give him comfort.
It was an old fable that your Septa used read to you when you were a child, about a woman who waited nearly twenty years for her husband.
He had gone off to war and left her with their young son, but even though everyone around her kept telling her that he was dead, she never gave up hope.
“Penelope waited for him and she waited. For twenty years, she never strayed from the idea that her husband would come home to her, and she never gave up hope. Even when…”
You voice drifted quietly through Jace’s chambers, mingling with the crackling fire and slowly luring Aegon to sleep.
The boy had found a comfortable position lying on your chest, and now he breathed softly as he struggled to keep his eyes open. He kept reaching up to rub the sleep out of them, but you figured that he’d drift any time now, so quietly you finished the story and kissed his forehead.
“How did you like that one, Byka ön’næza?” you asked softly, using the High Valyrian nickname. It’s one that Jace used to call him often and you hoped it would bring him some comfort.
Aegon smiled faintly.
“It was very good, sister,” he responded in his mother tongue, yawning. “Penelope reminds me a lot of you.”
You smiled sadly as you stared down at the little boy. You knew that he was right. Part of the reason that you had chosen the story was because it sounded so familiar, and Penelope and her husband’s happy ending brought you comfort, too.
“I suppose that you are right. I suppose that we are similar,” you responded, stroking his hair. “Penelope never gave up on her husband.”
“Just like you will never give up on Jace.”
“That is right, Byka ön’næza.”
Aegon hummed softly as you stared at the bed, watching as Jacaerys drew in a breath weakly. His body stayed still, as it always did, but you wondered briefly what was happening inside of his mind.
Was he awake there, and could he hear you? Did he know that you were waiting for him?
You hoped beyond hope that somehow he could. That somehow, there was a way for him to know that you were there for him, and that you’d wait as long as need be.
Just like the story, and just like Penelope, you didn’t plan on going anywhere. Until you were sure, and until you witnessed his last breath for yourself, you’d stay right by his side, and you didn’t care what anyone said.
You be there as long as it took.
—
“My lady, please. You must eat. You cannot continue to sit here and starve yourself like this.”
Four weeks.
“This is not what Prince Jacaerys would want.”
Five.
“You must eat something, please. Think about the babe my lady! You must!”
You blink, and suddenly six weeks have passed since the Gullet. An entire moon and half since you have lost your hudband, and yet he is right there.
Jacaerys is as still as ever, unchanging and unmoving. He is as silent and as unconscious as the day he was placed there, though his wounds have at least began to heal.
Just two days ago the Grand Maester finally took the bandage off of his neck. He said that the fact that Jace was healing was a good sign, but that did not make it any less brutal.
You expected to feel uncomfortable at seeing the scars, but nothing truly prepared you for how sick it would make you feel. The arrow pierced right through his flesh and left a long jagged scar that seemed to torment you. Once again, you couldn’t stop picturing Jace all alone at sea, getting shot at relentlessly, and so for your own sake, you covered his neck with a blanket.
This at least hid the physical evidence and gave you some relief, but the truth of the matter still remained.
Jacaerys still wasn’t waking up, and until he did, you had remained unchanging and unmoving as well.
In the beginning, it wasn’t so bad. You would at least get up to eat. You wanted to be strong and healthy in case he woke up and needed your help, but the silence and the anxiety had made your appetite decrease. Now, you hardly ever left his side, afraid that as soon as you did, he’d wake.
You were terrified of not being there for Jace, and so you reminded, even if you were harming yourself and the babe.
The last plea from Dorothea is what finally snapped you out of it. A small jolt went through you, almost as if you had been slapped by her, and instinctively you pressed your hand to your stomach.
It was warm and though you had only found out a week prior, it was already slightly round. The Maester guessed you that you were somewhere around a moon and a half, and the bitter irony was not lost upon you.
As soon as you lost Jace, you had gained his seed. A little part of him that he wouldn’t even get to see grow; and yet another person that would miss him.
You prayed even harder when you found out that Jace would come back to you, and if not for you, then for your babe.
He deserved to see your child grow up but the Gods had yet to answer you. You had no idea if
“I…I will Dorothea. I will eat, I swear it. Just…just give me a moment. Please. He may wake up soon.”
“My lady…”
She gave you a look. You hated that look. You hated the pity, and how she clearly didn’t have as much faith as you did. It made you feel crazy that no one else believed that Jace was coming back except for you. “I do not think that is a good idea. The longer that you prolong it, the more that you risk harming the babe.”
Her words sent a pang through your heart. As much as you didn’t want to hear it, you knew that she was right and your heart began to beat a little faster. You looked at Jace while keeping a hand on your stomach, squeezing his with your free one. His skin was still cold but it had warmed a little bit, something you attributed to the added blankets.
“Alright,” you whispered after a second, your voice barely visible. You barely looked up as you squeezed his hand and said, “I will eat a little. Something light, perhaps. I do not want to be away from him for long.”
“Very well then.” Dorothea gave you smile. It was obvious that she was relieved that you at least agreed to that, and she didn’t push. “I shall tell the cooks to prepare something quick. A sandwich, perhaps. I could even draw you bath while she prepares it.”
She held her hand out, and very gently she helped you from your chair. It creaked a little due to the absense of your weight, and it felt odd being on your feet again. Blood immediately pooled to your feet, which began to go numb from sitting so long.
“Let us get this over with quickly then,” you muttered, sighing.
You let go of Dorothea’s hand and began to move forward. You went to follow the maid, reluctant to even do so, but just before you could take a full step, something stopped you.
A tug on your hand had you freezing in your tracks, gasping as it pulled you back into place. It happened so suddenly that for a moment you were stunned, barely comprehending that it was coming from Jace.
“My lady? Are you alright? What…?”
“He…he did it! He squeezed my hand! Dorothea, he’s awake!”
Quickly, as fast as lightning strikes, you whirled around and dropped to your knees. You became eye level with the bed and you stared at Jace with wide eyes, your heart threatening to dance out of your chest. It was beating so hard that you were sure even Dorothea could hear it, the maid crouching down beside you with wide eyes.
“My lady, are you…are you sure?”
“Yes! Yes, look!”
The reluctance in her voice had you second guessing yourself, and for moment, you truly did fear the worst. You feared that perhaps you had just imagined it, your delusions fueled by your lack of food. It would not be the first time that you daydreamed of such a scenario, but it was the first time that it became real.
“By the Gods,” Dorothea gasped as she watched his eyelids. They fluttered slightly, as if he was trying to open them, and she called out, “M-My Prince? My Prince are you awake?”
“Jace, can you hear me?”
You leaned over anxiously, nearly tasting bile in your throat. Your head suddenly went blank and your body began to go numb. It tingled with sheer disbelief as you watched his eyes flicker again, his hand squeezing yours ever so slightly.
“Pe…pen…” he muttered weakly.
You gasped loudly.
“What? Can you hear me Jace? Jacaerys, please.”
You waited a few seconds for him to answer. The wait felt beyond agonizing. It felt like every breath was held with anticipation, waiting to see if this was truly happening.
He groaned a little as you kissed his knuckles, your whole body shaking like a leaf. You barely felt able to breathe as his eyes flickered, and finally, finally after a month of waiting, you saw his eyes again.
They turned to you in bout of confusion, unfocused and no doubt blurry. It took a few seconds of blinking for him to truly look at you, but when he did, there was no denying that it was him.
He looked at you the same way he always did. As if he was a blind man seeing the sun again. His eyes glazed over and he shifted a little, sniffling as he muttered your name.
“You…you’re here,” he slurred slightly, a faint smile growing on his face. “You…you waited for me.”
“Jace,” you sobbed again, leaning forward to rest your forhead against his chest. Your whole body shook as you cried into his arms, relishing the feeling of his warm touch.
“Of course I did. Of course,” you said.
You reached up delicately and stroked his cheek. It was warm, just as it should be. You cherished it for a moment before leaning down to kiss him, laughing tearfully as you said,
“I will always wait for you. Always.”
And, just like Penelope and her husband, you knew it was only the beginning of your happy ending.
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