Aemond taking you as his prisoner of war. Aemond using you to vent out his anger and soothe his temper, until little by little he comes to rely on it. Day after day he grows more and more attached to you, and vulnerable, and while he thinks he has you subdued and afraid of him, youâve played into his hand to make yourself indispensable. And when the time comes, youâll have your revenge.
hello. if itâs not too much bother what sharpening settings do you use for your gifs? theyâre gorgeous.
Thank you so much ! âĄ
I do 10% with a 10px radius and 500% with a 0.3px radius. It was what the first tutorial I ever followed recommended back when I started making gifs and after trying different settings it's still what I prefer most of the time.
I could make a quick tutorial if anyone is interested in how I make my gifs, what my favorite tools are, etc. Coloring is what's most important to me and really brings out the details.
Hii, i hope you're having a lovely day. i just wanted to know if your fic valarr x reader x jacaerys will be posted soon? i've been dying too read it, i'm sure it'll be amazing. Thank you
Hello lovely. I'm still working on it, don't worry ⥠I've written about 2/3 of it done and I'm hesitating how far to take the smut.
Tomorrow I'm leaving for a few days in the countryside with little to no cell service or internet. I have an Aemond oneshot scheduled to be posted on Wednesday night, but it's all angst.
If you want me to take one or two Aemond requests to work on during the train ride, my inbox is open ⥠I'm in the mood to write some romance and/or some smut.
"mmh did you know that creator you like also posts đ content? did you know that? don't you think that's weird? don't you think we should keep this space-"
no. i don't.
i booked a front row seat to the devil's sacrament and you're blocking the view
just go back to the 1660 new england hole you just crawled out of and eat barley for a week to atone for your sins or whatever
My opinion on today's episode, in no particular order.
Aemond being tormented by Alys was the only entertaining thing in that episode. I'm curious about what's going on with Vhagar.
I'm tired of Larys and Aegon just going around in circles doing nothing. This plotline is going literally nowhere. What a waste.
Same for Gwayne and Cole, and his nonsensical suicide march. That line about him being the greatest warrior in the realm is so insanely stupid. What have they done to Cole the Kingmaker?!
Also, I'm mad at what they've done to Alicent once again, in what world would she try to force her daughter to abort her own baby. At that stage of pregnancy, she's not going to bleed, she's going to deliver a fetus.
Baela complaining that her future is destroyed, that she won't be the queen anymore? My goodness, can the writers allow her to grieve the boy she loved?!
The episode was apparently written by Philippa Goslett, well that doesn't leave me a good impression of that person.
Tags ⢠post-Dance, grief/mourning, arranged marriage/political marriage, enemies to lovers, falling in love, eventual romance, eventual smut, angst with a happy ending
Wordcount ⢠3,360
Summary ⢠Jacaerys is crowned king as his mother perishes from her wounds shortly after retaking the Iron Throne. He makes a match with you, the last daughter of King Viserys and Alicent Hightower, to secure peace and rebuild the Targaryen dynasty.
Series Masterlist
Chapter Three ⢠We Light the Way
Night frost was still clinging to the windows and hindering the hinges of the doors when the young Lord Lyonel Hightower crossed the gates of the Red Keep atop his horse. He had left the inn on his last rest before reaching the capital early in the morning, and arrived before midday had risen in the sky, although the sun could barely pierce through the thick white clouds.Â
Snow was expected any day now, and he had written to you from the Roseroad to say he hoped his business in the capital would not take too long, so that he might return before the storms came from the Northern lands.
You were waiting for him on the balcony overlooking the inner courtyard when he crossed it in decided strides, his green cape floating behind him with a flourish. Your gazes met as you turned towards the staircase to meet him, and your heart picked up.
Nearly half a year had passed since you had set eyes on himâthe last time you had seen him, he had been no more than a boy clutching the skirts of his step-mother, and now he was a young man at the head of a powerful house with powerful armies.Â
âCousin,â Lyonel greeted as though you both remained unchanged since your parting, and embraced you like a sister.
âIt is good to see you, cousin,â you replied, clutching him tighter for a moment, before releasing him.
As you stepped away, you noticed his eyes were raised to the staircase behind you, and as you turned to follow his line of sight, found Jacaerys standing at the very top of it. He was dressed in different clothes than you had seen on him so far. When he usually wore black these days, save for the lining of his cape, he now wore a crimson cloak draped over one shoulder, the crown of Jaehaerys sitting neatly atop his curls.
âLord Hightower,â he called, making his way down slowly, content to make his guest wait at the bottom of the stairs. Two kingsguards were escorting him, right wrists resting loosely on the pommel of their swords. Lyonel said nothing in return, but you felt him tense beside you.
As Jacaerys came to face the new lord of the Hightower, he was stricken with how youthful of appearance he wasâhe was still very much a boy, barely two years younger than himself and yet appearing more juvenile. He looked very much like a Hightower, with bright red hair and light eyes, and the arrogant attitude that came with his fatherâs reputation.Â
âIt is good of you to answer my call,â Jacaerys added when it became apparent he was not going to receive a formal greeting.
âI admit my surprise when on the way to the capital, we learned that my cousin had been crowned as queen,â Lyonel then said, crossing his arms. âI will be blunt, I am only here to see her.â
âThe war is lost and over, Lyonel, let us keep the peace,â you placated, a hand on his arm, and he relented, following without a word when Jacaerys led him to the Council Room, and took the seat he was pointed to, across from the Handâs chair where you sat.
Jacaerys saw Lyonelâs eyebrows raise when he then spoke, no doubt surprised at the subject he chose to address first. âIt is my understanding that youâve petitioned the High Septon to authorize you to marry your fatherâs widow,â Jacaerys said.
âIndeed,â Lyonel said, frowning.Â
âIt is an unusual request,â he commented, and it was obvious Lyonel wanted to laugh in his face.
âI doubt a Targaryen would find it so strange as to notice it,â he said with an unpleasant sneer, and it took Jacaerys a second to understand there was a second meaning to his answer, which he chose to ignore. It had been his understanding that Lord Ormund had been a pious man, deeply motivated by his faith, and he did not know what to make of such a proclivity in the son.Â
âI was also told it was refused,â Jace continued, and Lyonelâs mood soured visibly.
âWhich is disappointing, as the union has already been consummated,â Lyonel replied, crossing his legs at the knee and leaning back into his chair. âLady Sam is with child.â
Your eyes widened at the news and you swallowed uncomfortably, but Jacaerys remained impassible, his face smooth as marble, his eyes fixed on Lyonel. âI might be able to convince the Septon,â he said calmly, as though none of the situation troubled him.
âAnd if you were not?â Lyonel pressed back.
âI would legitimize any child you would have with her,â he answered without a second thought.
Lyonel seemed to consider the proposal for a while. âLady Sam advised me to come, she thought you might be sympathetic to our cause,â Lyonel admitted. âWhat would you ask of me in return?â
Jacaerys glanced at you then, a silent assent. âWe ask that you disband your banners,â you requested, crossing your hands atop the table. âSome of your garrisons are still stationed along the Roseroad and the Mander, causing tension.â
Lyonel had a strange look in his eyes as he looked upon you, then glanced at Jacaerys suspiciously before he turned his gaze back to you again. âThey have been waiting on my orders, no more,â he defended, uncrossing his legs so he could lean forward.
âWe ask that you send your men home, and make a declaration of peace,â Jacaerys intervened.
Lyonelâs face darkened then, and Jacaerys thought he saw something familiar in the set of his jaw and the line of his browâan authoritarian look he had seen many times on the face of his grandsireâs Hand.
âWhile your husband plays a pleasant tune, and my wife encourages me to fall into rank, I need to know, can I trust his word, my queen?â he asked, and Jace noticed something unspoken passing between the two of you, an understanding stemming from years as children together, raised under the same roof.
You swallowed but nodded. âThe king has not broken any of the promises heâs made me so far.â
Lyonel stood then, sharply, forcing Jacaerys to mirror him. âConsider it done,â he said, but before Jace could reply, laid out his terms. âOn the condition that my cousin is safe and treated properly. Let one thing be clear, Jacaerys, is that House Hightower is not loyal to you, but to our queen. One word from her, and we shall declare against you.â
Jacaerys extended his hand despite the threat. âI expected no less,â he said, gritting his teeth when Lyonel reciprocated, his grip unnecessarily tight on his wrist as they sealed their wordsâfor the time being.
Jeyne Arryn made it to the capital a mere few days following Lord Lyonelâs arrival, and she immediately regretted that Jacaerys received him personally, without waiting for her counsel.
She faced the same slight displeasure from the men of the Small Council, no doubt slighted that none of them were chosen as Hand, and instead would have to take orders from a woman. Jacaerys supposed that endorsing the rightful queen was one thing, but obeying a woman chosen among other candidates was another entirely.
Still, Lady Jeyne took it in stride, and did not wait to be settled in the Handâs Tower to take over the Small Council meetings and surveying what had been done so far. âDo you believe Lord Hightower to be trustworthy?â she inquired at supper the first night, after Jacaerys had recounted the meeting to her.Â
Jacaerys had chosen to host her in one of the dining halls instead of his own quarters, wary of allowing anyone in his quarters these days. He had started to wonder if he might also requisition one of the empty royal bedchambers to move his desk into, loathing the sight of it as he laid in bed, reminded at every second of the sheer scale of the work that awaited him.Â
âNo, but he needs something from me and his wife apparently endorsed my mother,â he replied, to which Jeyne gave a surprised hum, spearing a braised plum on her fork. âFurthermore, he will not go against the queenâs direct order.â
âHis loyalty is with her, then,â Jeyne concluded, then seemed to think on the issue for a moment. Across from her at the table, Cregan Stark was observing her with interest, seemingly pleased in what he was seeing in her. After a while of silent contemplating, she spoke again. âThe Hightowers are vassals of House Tyrell, and while their lord is a babe, I heard the regent Lady Margaery is a sensible woman.âÂ
âDo you mean to order the Tyrells to settle their banners?â Jacaerys inquired.
Cregan set his knife down at the suggestion. âShe was not impressed by dragons in her lands, she refused to declare all throughout the war, I doubt forcing her hand is the way to treat with her.â
Jeyne did not smile nor frown, simply continued to cut into the sweet, caramelized fruit being served with the braised meat. âI shall write to her, woman to woman, and to Lady Sam as well,â she said, her voice as even as always. âWe cannot trust Lord Lyonelâs word alone.â
Jacaerys was slightly reassured by the prospect, but his worries resurfaced when Cregan cleared his throat and addressed him. âYour grace, I could not help but notice that you gave leeway to the queen to socialize with her cousin, unsupervised,â he said carefully, and Jeyne tilted her head at the comment.
âI would not trust the queen to that extent,â she immediately replied.Â
A bright flare of irritation burst behind Jaceâs breastbone, and he pushed his plate aside, his appetite soured. âIt was the councilâs idea that I wed her and now you tell me to be wary of my own wife?â
Cregan frowned at the display of temper, but Jacaerys supposed he was used to it by now. âShe is a Hightower. She was raised by Lord Hobert and then Lord Ormund,â he replied, keeping his voice calm but firm. âLyonel is more of a brother to her than Aegon or Aemond ever were.â
Jacaerys rose from the table then, startling the young page that had been waiting on him with a pitcher of fresh, dark wine ready to be served. âOut,â he snapped to the boy, who obeyed and scurried out, closing the door behind him. Pacing the room under the attentive eyes of his councillors, Jacaerys struggled to keep his temper at bay. âDo you think she would so easily betray me? Why encourage me to take a queen you know you cannot trust?âÂ
Cregan rose as well then, while Jeyne kept to her seat, swirling her cup of wine slowly. At her feet, one of her lanky dogs crossed its paws and huffed as though it could understand the topic being discussed.Â
As he had done many times over, Cregan came to him and soothed his frustrated pacing with a hand to the shoulder, and Jace nearly regretted how disagreeable he had been then. âTrust is to be earned, your grace, and she will earn it by doing her duty,â he explained. âThe sooner she bears you a child, the better.â
Jacaerys looked aside then, removing his hand with a sharp shrug of his shoulder. âI am aware of that,â he said in a tone that suggested no further comment would be tolerated, and Cregan took a step back in subtle deference. âNow if youâll excuse me, Lady Jeyne, I shall see to my brothers,â he said before making his way towards the door, leaving his new Hand and his most trusted sword alone.
Alicent was already dressed for the night when you came to visit her that night, sharing a cup of tea as had become your ritual when you did, sharing wisdom in the quiet hours of the evening, when the troubles of the day kept you from settling.Â
âI have not been allowed to meet with Lyonel,â Alicent lamented as she tightened the belt of her night robe before sitting down across from you, the steaming tea between you on the small table. âHe was a babe the last time I saw him and now he rules our house.â
You replied nothing to her lament, instead asked the question that had plagued you since Lyonelâs arrival and your discussions in the garden, reminiscing of your childhood, and in which memory your cousin had promised to raise his army if you so wished, uncaring for the pact he had made with Jacaerys.
âWhy did you send me to ward with the Hightowers?â you inquired, and your mother looked sad then.Â
âI bore the king three Targaryen children,â she explained, and in those words you could feel the weight of decades of selfless service to the crown. âI wanted you, my last, to be a Hightower.â
âWell I am not. Lord Hobert was kind and I bless his memory, but Ormund never let me forget that my blood was tainted, that I would only be worthy of the Hightower name if I dedicated myself to the faith,â you replied, feeling now familiar frustration rise in you. It was your constant companion these days, and you could not determine the root of it so you might tear it from the ground and burn it.Â
Alicent seemed remorseful then, but you had no use of cold regrets. âI spent a decade praying for forgiveness, forced to reject my own blood until I was called to make use of it again,â you continued, remembering the letter Lyonel had received, ordering him to send you back to your king. âI am not a Targaryen but I am not a Hightower either. I donât know that I belong anywhere.â
Alicent reached across the table to take your hands into hers. âYou are a Hightower, by temperament and by upbringing, but also by blood. You are my daughter,â she assured you. âAnd now you are the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.â
âAm I?â you murmured, looking down at your knees. You hesitated to confess the truth of your position, but in the end, you allowed the truth to escape you. âThe marriage is unconsummated.â
The cooling tea was definitely forgotten then, Alicent now more awake and incensed than she had been a minute ago. She shook her head, sighing in despair. âYou cannot allow it to remain as such. As long as you are not married to the king, our position remains fragile,â she explained, even though she did not need to. âAs long as he has not bedded you, he can replace you in an instant.â
âI am aware of that, mother,â you protested.
âThen you must go to him now,â Alicent urged you, rising and pulling you along, leading you towards the door. You looked aside when your mother reached for your robe, undoing the first few clasps and pulling the collar of your nightgown further down on your chest. âThe sooner you give him a boy, the sooner you will obtain what it is you seek.â
You wanted to protest that what you sought did not rest in the hands of a husband you had not chosen, but you knew your laments would fall into deaf ears. Instead you nodded, compliant as you had been taught, and walked out into the cold hallway, following your memory without conscious thought until you came upon the kingâs quarters.
However, your endeavor was stopped by the kingsguard that stood at attention in front of the heavy doors. âThe king is not in his quarters, my queen,â the man said.Â
âWhere is he, then?â you asked. So preoccupied by the matter at hand, you instantly thought of him in the arms of anotherâyou had heard the rumors regarding his affection for his cousin Lady Baelaâbetraying you as you had feared the first night of your marriage.Â
While he had assured you of his intent to keep you as his queen, you wondered if perhaps it was a facade to appease the Hightowers for the time being, and now that he had their allegiance, although fragile, he would cast you away.Â
The guard was quick to soothe your sudden worries. âThe king is in the nursery, your grace,â he said, pointing to the room across the hallway.
Slightly curious, you thanked him and made your way to the childrenâs quarters, from which a bright light was coming, spilling into the hallway. For a morbid second you wondered whether it was the room your nephew had lost his life in, but the question was chased away from your mind when you entered and took in the sight that awaited.Â
Jacaerys was sitting at the foot of a large bed where two boys were huddled together, their little heads resting side by side on the pillow, their white hair sticking into odd spikes, still wet from a bath. The king held a closed book on his lap, and while you could not see his face, you could see in the downturn line of his shoulders that he was not in a cheerful mood.Â
âI know that I am not your father, and that I will never replace him,â he was telling the children, his voice thick with emotion. âAs I will never replace our mother, but I will do my best by you.â
The older-looking boy glanced over his brotherâs shoulder then, and Jacaerys turned, catching you before you could step back into the hallway. âForgive me, I did not mean to interrupt,â you defended yourself immediately, but instead of anger, it was exhaustion that spread over his face.
âStay,â he said, twisting to glance at the other side of the room. Across from the boysâ bed, Jaehaera slept in her own crib. The nurse that sat with her rose when you approached, and you took her place, sitting in the rocking chair. The little girl was deep into slumber, clutching a doll made of cloth and an embroidered blanketâat first glance you thought they were flowers, but upon closer inspection, you noticed they were butterflies.
âSheâs my niece and yet I am a stranger to her,â you commented, unsure why you were saying this out loud, to Jacaerys of all people.Â
Nonetheless, he seemed touched by your confession, and in the soft light of the nursery, you found he looked quite different than you had ever seen himâgone was the arrogant, self-assured young king who had met with your cousin. Instead he looked years older than his years, and weary beyond them.
âWould you like to raise her?â he offered. âThere has been talk of sending her to ward with Lord Lyonel, but I would keep her here, with you, if that is what you wished.â
âPerhaps I should,â you answered, aware that it was not an answer.Â
For a while the both of you remained silent, looking upon the children the war had spared, and the utter devastation of it seemed to dawn on you. Orphans, they were, their respective parents dead in the pursuit of the throne, and once again you thought there was no justice to the whims of the Gods, leaving babes without mother nor father, left to carry a legacy of bloodshed and kinslaying.
When Jacaerys spoke again, it was as though the words came straight from your heart. âI am aware that our marriage is based on hatred, but the children are innocent in all this. May we leave the quarrels of the past behind, when it comes to them?â he asked. âThey need serenity after what theyâve been witness to.â
There was only one thing you could answer then. âOf course.â
After that Jacaerys spoke to you no more, instead turning back to his Aegon and Viserys, and the book he was holding, opening it on his lap and letting the large pages fall on either side of his legs. You nearly started when he started to read what you supposed to be High Valyrian, and you suffered that you could not understand a word of it.
Author's Note ⢠Dividers by @zaldritzosrose. Chapter four will be posted in two weeks, on August 1st.
Series taglist ⢠@chaotichereticcavern @galactict3a @qtmoonies @multyfangirl @obsidian-gold1239
Tags ⢠post-Dance, grief/mourning, arranged marriage/political marriage, enemies to lovers, falling in love, eventual romance, eventual smut, angst with a happy ending
Wordcount ⢠3,360
Summary ⢠Jacaerys is crowned king as his mother perishes from her wounds shortly after retaking the Iron Throne. He makes a match with you, the last daughter of King Viserys and Alicent Hightower, to secure peace and rebuild the Targaryen dynasty.
Series Masterlist
Chapter Three ⢠We Light the Way
Night frost was still clinging to the windows and hindering the hinges of the doors when the young Lord Lyonel Hightower crossed the gates of the Red Keep atop his horse. He had left the inn on his last rest before reaching the capital early in the morning, and arrived before midday had risen in the sky, although the sun could barely pierce through the thick white clouds.Â
Snow was expected any day now, and he had written to you from the Roseroad to say he hoped his business in the capital would not take too long, so that he might return before the storms came from the Northern lands.
You were waiting for him on the balcony overlooking the inner courtyard when he crossed it in decided strides, his green cape floating behind him with a flourish. Your gazes met as you turned towards the staircase to meet him, and your heart picked up.
Nearly half a year had passed since you had set eyes on himâthe last time you had seen him, he had been no more than a boy clutching the skirts of his step-mother, and now he was a young man at the head of a powerful house with powerful armies.Â
âCousin,â Lyonel greeted as though you both remained unchanged since your parting, and embraced you like a sister.
âIt is good to see you, cousin,â you replied, clutching him tighter for a moment, before releasing him.
As you stepped away, you noticed his eyes were raised to the staircase behind you, and as you turned to follow his line of sight, found Jacaerys standing at the very top of it. He was dressed in different clothes than you had seen on him so far. When he usually wore black these days, save for the lining of his cape, he now wore a crimson cloak draped over one shoulder, the crown of Jaehaerys sitting neatly atop his curls.
âLord Hightower,â he called, making his way down slowly, content to make his guest wait at the bottom of the stairs. Two kingsguards were escorting him, right wrists resting loosely on the pommel of their swords. Lyonel said nothing in return, but you felt him tense beside you.
As Jacaerys came to face the new lord of the Hightower, he was stricken with how youthful of appearance he wasâhe was still very much a boy, barely two years younger than himself and yet appearing more juvenile. He looked very much like a Hightower, with bright red hair and light eyes, and the arrogant attitude that came with his fatherâs reputation.Â
âIt is good of you to answer my call,â Jacaerys added when it became apparent he was not going to receive a formal greeting.
âI admit my surprise when on the way to the capital, we learned that my cousin had been crowned as queen,â Lyonel then said, crossing his arms. âI will be blunt, I am only here to see her.â
âThe war is lost and over, Lyonel, let us keep the peace,â you placated, a hand on his arm, and he relented, following without a word when Jacaerys led him to the Council Room, and took the seat he was pointed to, across from the Handâs chair where you sat.
Jacaerys saw Lyonelâs eyebrows raise when he then spoke, no doubt surprised at the subject he chose to address first. âIt is my understanding that youâve petitioned the High Septon to authorize you to marry your fatherâs widow,â Jacaerys said.
âIndeed,â Lyonel said, frowning.Â
âIt is an unusual request,â he commented, and it was obvious Lyonel wanted to laugh in his face.
âI doubt a Targaryen would find it so strange as to notice it,â he said with an unpleasant sneer, and it took Jacaerys a second to understand there was a second meaning to his answer, which he chose to ignore. It had been his understanding that Lord Ormund had been a pious man, deeply motivated by his faith, and he did not know what to make of such a proclivity in the son.Â
âI was also told it was refused,â Jace continued, and Lyonelâs mood soured visibly.
âWhich is disappointing, as the union has already been consummated,â Lyonel replied, crossing his legs at the knee and leaning back into his chair. âLady Sam is with child.â
Your eyes widened at the news and you swallowed uncomfortably, but Jacaerys remained impassible, his face smooth as marble, his eyes fixed on Lyonel. âI might be able to convince the Septon,â he said calmly, as though none of the situation troubled him.
âAnd if you were not?â Lyonel pressed back.
âI would legitimize any child you would have with her,â he answered without a second thought.
Lyonel seemed to consider the proposal for a while. âLady Sam advised me to come, she thought you might be sympathetic to our cause,â Lyonel admitted. âWhat would you ask of me in return?â
Jacaerys glanced at you then, a silent assent. âWe ask that you disband your banners,â you requested, crossing your hands atop the table. âSome of your garrisons are still stationed along the Roseroad and the Mander, causing tension.â
Lyonel had a strange look in his eyes as he looked upon you, then glanced at Jacaerys suspiciously before he turned his gaze back to you again. âThey have been waiting on my orders, no more,â he defended, uncrossing his legs so he could lean forward.
âWe ask that you send your men home, and make a declaration of peace,â Jacaerys intervened.
Lyonelâs face darkened then, and Jacaerys thought he saw something familiar in the set of his jaw and the line of his browâan authoritarian look he had seen many times on the face of his grandsireâs Hand.
âWhile your husband plays a pleasant tune, and my wife encourages me to fall into rank, I need to know, can I trust his word, my queen?â he asked, and Jace noticed something unspoken passing between the two of you, an understanding stemming from years as children together, raised under the same roof.
You swallowed but nodded. âThe king has not broken any of the promises heâs made me so far.â
Lyonel stood then, sharply, forcing Jacaerys to mirror him. âConsider it done,â he said, but before Jace could reply, laid out his terms. âOn the condition that my cousin is safe and treated properly. Let one thing be clear, Jacaerys, is that House Hightower is not loyal to you, but to our queen. One word from her, and we shall declare against you.â
Jacaerys extended his hand despite the threat. âI expected no less,â he said, gritting his teeth when Lyonel reciprocated, his grip unnecessarily tight on his wrist as they sealed their wordsâfor the time being.
Jeyne Arryn made it to the capital a mere few days following Lord Lyonelâs arrival, and she immediately regretted that Jacaerys received him personally, without waiting for her counsel.
She faced the same slight displeasure from the men of the Small Council, no doubt slighted that none of them were chosen as Hand, and instead would have to take orders from a woman. Jacaerys supposed that endorsing the rightful queen was one thing, but obeying a woman chosen among other candidates was another entirely.
Still, Lady Jeyne took it in stride, and did not wait to be settled in the Handâs Tower to take over the Small Council meetings and surveying what had been done so far. âDo you believe Lord Hightower to be trustworthy?â she inquired at supper the first night, after Jacaerys had recounted the meeting to her.Â
Jacaerys had chosen to host her in one of the dining halls instead of his own quarters, wary of allowing anyone in his quarters these days. He had started to wonder if he might also requisition one of the empty royal bedchambers to move his desk into, loathing the sight of it as he laid in bed, reminded at every second of the sheer scale of the work that awaited him.Â
âNo, but he needs something from me and his wife apparently endorsed my mother,â he replied, to which Jeyne gave a surprised hum, spearing a braised plum on her fork. âFurthermore, he will not go against the queenâs direct order.â
âHis loyalty is with her, then,â Jeyne concluded, then seemed to think on the issue for a moment. Across from her at the table, Cregan Stark was observing her with interest, seemingly pleased in what he was seeing in her. After a while of silent contemplating, she spoke again. âThe Hightowers are vassals of House Tyrell, and while their lord is a babe, I heard the regent Lady Margaery is a sensible woman.âÂ
âDo you mean to order the Tyrells to settle their banners?â Jacaerys inquired.
Cregan set his knife down at the suggestion. âShe was not impressed by dragons in her lands, she refused to declare all throughout the war, I doubt forcing her hand is the way to treat with her.â
Jeyne did not smile nor frown, simply continued to cut into the sweet, caramelized fruit being served with the braised meat. âI shall write to her, woman to woman, and to Lady Sam as well,â she said, her voice as even as always. âWe cannot trust Lord Lyonelâs word alone.â
Jacaerys was slightly reassured by the prospect, but his worries resurfaced when Cregan cleared his throat and addressed him. âYour grace, I could not help but notice that you gave leeway to the queen to socialize with her cousin, unsupervised,â he said carefully, and Jeyne tilted her head at the comment.
âI would not trust the queen to that extent,â she immediately replied.Â
A bright flare of irritation burst behind Jaceâs breastbone, and he pushed his plate aside, his appetite soured. âIt was the councilâs idea that I wed her and now you tell me to be wary of my own wife?â
Cregan frowned at the display of temper, but Jacaerys supposed he was used to it by now. âShe is a Hightower. She was raised by Lord Hobert and then Lord Ormund,â he replied, keeping his voice calm but firm. âLyonel is more of a brother to her than Aegon or Aemond ever were.â
Jacaerys rose from the table then, startling the young page that had been waiting on him with a pitcher of fresh, dark wine ready to be served. âOut,â he snapped to the boy, who obeyed and scurried out, closing the door behind him. Pacing the room under the attentive eyes of his councillors, Jacaerys struggled to keep his temper at bay. âDo you think she would so easily betray me? Why encourage me to take a queen you know you cannot trust?âÂ
Cregan rose as well then, while Jeyne kept to her seat, swirling her cup of wine slowly. At her feet, one of her lanky dogs crossed its paws and huffed as though it could understand the topic being discussed.Â
As he had done many times over, Cregan came to him and soothed his frustrated pacing with a hand to the shoulder, and Jace nearly regretted how disagreeable he had been then. âTrust is to be earned, your grace, and she will earn it by doing her duty,â he explained. âThe sooner she bears you a child, the better.â
Jacaerys looked aside then, removing his hand with a sharp shrug of his shoulder. âI am aware of that,â he said in a tone that suggested no further comment would be tolerated, and Cregan took a step back in subtle deference. âNow if youâll excuse me, Lady Jeyne, I shall see to my brothers,â he said before making his way towards the door, leaving his new Hand and his most trusted sword alone.
Alicent was already dressed for the night when you came to visit her that night, sharing a cup of tea as had become your ritual when you did, sharing wisdom in the quiet hours of the evening, when the troubles of the day kept you from settling.Â
âI have not been allowed to meet with Lyonel,â Alicent lamented as she tightened the belt of her night robe before sitting down across from you, the steaming tea between you on the small table. âHe was a babe the last time I saw him and now he rules our house.â
You replied nothing to her lament, instead asked the question that had plagued you since Lyonelâs arrival and your discussions in the garden, reminiscing of your childhood, and in which memory your cousin had promised to raise his army if you so wished, uncaring for the pact he had made with Jacaerys.
âWhy did you send me to ward with the Hightowers?â you inquired, and your mother looked sad then.Â
âI bore the king three Targaryen children,â she explained, and in those words you could feel the weight of decades of selfless service to the crown. âI wanted you, my last, to be a Hightower.â
âWell I am not. Lord Hobert was kind and I bless his memory, but Ormund never let me forget that my blood was tainted, that I would only be worthy of the Hightower name if I dedicated myself to the faith,â you replied, feeling now familiar frustration rise in you. It was your constant companion these days, and you could not determine the root of it so you might tear it from the ground and burn it.Â
Alicent seemed remorseful then, but you had no use of cold regrets. âI spent a decade praying for forgiveness, forced to reject my own blood until I was called to make use of it again,â you continued, remembering the letter Lyonel had received, ordering him to send you back to your king. âI am not a Targaryen but I am not a Hightower either. I donât know that I belong anywhere.â
Alicent reached across the table to take your hands into hers. âYou are a Hightower, by temperament and by upbringing, but also by blood. You are my daughter,â she assured you. âAnd now you are the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.â
âAm I?â you murmured, looking down at your knees. You hesitated to confess the truth of your position, but in the end, you allowed the truth to escape you. âThe marriage is unconsummated.â
The cooling tea was definitely forgotten then, Alicent now more awake and incensed than she had been a minute ago. She shook her head, sighing in despair. âYou cannot allow it to remain as such. As long as you are not married to the king, our position remains fragile,â she explained, even though she did not need to. âAs long as he has not bedded you, he can replace you in an instant.â
âI am aware of that, mother,â you protested.
âThen you must go to him now,â Alicent urged you, rising and pulling you along, leading you towards the door. You looked aside when your mother reached for your robe, undoing the first few clasps and pulling the collar of your nightgown further down on your chest. âThe sooner you give him a boy, the sooner you will obtain what it is you seek.â
You wanted to protest that what you sought did not rest in the hands of a husband you had not chosen, but you knew your laments would fall into deaf ears. Instead you nodded, compliant as you had been taught, and walked out into the cold hallway, following your memory without conscious thought until you came upon the kingâs quarters.
However, your endeavor was stopped by the kingsguard that stood at attention in front of the heavy doors. âThe king is not in his quarters, my queen,â the man said.Â
âWhere is he, then?â you asked. So preoccupied by the matter at hand, you instantly thought of him in the arms of anotherâyou had heard the rumors regarding his affection for his cousin Lady Baelaâbetraying you as you had feared the first night of your marriage.Â
While he had assured you of his intent to keep you as his queen, you wondered if perhaps it was a facade to appease the Hightowers for the time being, and now that he had their allegiance, although fragile, he would cast you away.Â
The guard was quick to soothe your sudden worries. âThe king is in the nursery, your grace,â he said, pointing to the room across the hallway.
Slightly curious, you thanked him and made your way to the childrenâs quarters, from which a bright light was coming, spilling into the hallway. For a morbid second you wondered whether it was the room your nephew had lost his life in, but the question was chased away from your mind when you entered and took in the sight that awaited.Â
Jacaerys was sitting at the foot of a large bed where two boys were huddled together, their little heads resting side by side on the pillow, their white hair sticking into odd spikes, still wet from a bath. The king held a closed book on his lap, and while you could not see his face, you could see in the downturn line of his shoulders that he was not in a cheerful mood.Â
âI know that I am not your father, and that I will never replace him,â he was telling the children, his voice thick with emotion. âAs I will never replace our mother, but I will do my best by you.â
The older-looking boy glanced over his brotherâs shoulder then, and Jacaerys turned, catching you before you could step back into the hallway. âForgive me, I did not mean to interrupt,â you defended yourself immediately, but instead of anger, it was exhaustion that spread over his face.
âStay,â he said, twisting to glance at the other side of the room. Across from the boysâ bed, Jaehaera slept in her own crib. The nurse that sat with her rose when you approached, and you took her place, sitting in the rocking chair. The little girl was deep into slumber, clutching a doll made of cloth and an embroidered blanketâat first glance you thought they were flowers, but upon closer inspection, you noticed they were butterflies.
âSheâs my niece and yet I am a stranger to her,â you commented, unsure why you were saying this out loud, to Jacaerys of all people.Â
Nonetheless, he seemed touched by your confession, and in the soft light of the nursery, you found he looked quite different than you had ever seen himâgone was the arrogant, self-assured young king who had met with your cousin. Instead he looked years older than his years, and weary beyond them.
âWould you like to raise her?â he offered. âThere has been talk of sending her to ward with Lord Lyonel, but I would keep her here, with you, if that is what you wished.â
âPerhaps I should,â you answered, aware that it was not an answer.Â
For a while the both of you remained silent, looking upon the children the war had spared, and the utter devastation of it seemed to dawn on you. Orphans, they were, their respective parents dead in the pursuit of the throne, and once again you thought there was no justice to the whims of the Gods, leaving babes without mother nor father, left to carry a legacy of bloodshed and kinslaying.
When Jacaerys spoke again, it was as though the words came straight from your heart. âI am aware that our marriage is based on hatred, but the children are innocent in all this. May we leave the quarrels of the past behind, when it comes to them?â he asked. âThey need serenity after what theyâve been witness to.â
There was only one thing you could answer then. âOf course.â
After that Jacaerys spoke to you no more, instead turning back to his Aegon and Viserys, and the book he was holding, opening it on his lap and letting the large pages fall on either side of his legs. You nearly started when he started to read what you supposed to be High Valyrian, and you suffered that you could not understand a word of it.
Author's Note ⢠Dividers by @zaldritzosrose. Chapter four will be posted in two weeks, on August 1st.
Series taglist ⢠@chaotichereticcavern @galactict3a @qtmoonies @multyfangirl @obsidian-gold1239
Yeah thats really cool . Also moon dancer also sheepstealer too i kinda wish his teeth where more uniform cuase does he swallow his food whole how can he chew .there kinda growing willy nilly
His teeth lowkey remaind me of alligator teeth
Oh, I see the resemblance. Several people have said he truly looks like a wild beast, something that nature would create, not a creature that was bred by people.
