Harina

Grief reverberated through stone walls, war-torn and weary, unable to endure another loss. She stood rigid before the widowpane, the world pressing in around her. Vast, indifferent, unyielding as the soil claimed another soul. But it was her soul buried with her love. Drowned with her love. Her lungs filled with water; each breath was a struggle. The endless landscape beckoned her. Whispering for her to join him. The weeds ready to entwine her body in a cruel embrace.

She would not fall. No, she would soar. A dragon does not bow to the soil. Their home was the endless sky above. A dragon takes flight. And within her, a dragon stirred, growing in her belly. She would soar.

"Princess, we beg you to sit."

The maids clung to her with a merciless grip. Worry seeped through every crack in the castle. She mindlessly moved towards the window. The air drew her in, pressing against every stone, as though it too longed to welcome her. Soon, she would join her beloved. The maids desperately urged her, placing their trembling hands upon the princess. So seldom would they be so brash. Their nails bit into the soft flesh of her arms, pulling her from the precipice.

No. Forsake the Gods, for they could not intervene now. The heavens had opened, and she would face their wrath for her choices. How could she bear the news? Surely he would not forsake her for joining him. Certainly with joy, he would welcome his babe and wife. There would be no pain then when faced with her husband.

She pressed forward, her hands grazing the clouds. The door burst open, torn from its hinges. The guards seized her, forcing her onto the bed.

The endless world pressed heavily on her breast. A scream tore from her throat. Glass-shattering, flesh-ripping, until her voice broke into sobs. She choked on her sobs. Drowning in her own tears. Spluttering as her body betrayed her mind. Against her will, it fought for air. It fought for life. And that, more than anything, was her dismay.

Noise dissolved into darkness, taking her vision with it. Her body convulsed beneath the weight of woe. For some time, the world moved around her. Yet, she remained frozen, trapped in sorrow's grip.

Her ears rang, struggling to separate the chaos of sound until one word pierced through. "Breath."

The command shot through every vein, igniting a fire. How long had she been lost in the pit of her despair? When had Rhaenyra come to her side? Her lungs burned with the fresh air. Her chest was rising and falling in an erratic rhythm. Rhaenyra bent close, face stained with anguish, fresh tears still carving their mark upon her cheek. Again and again, Rhaenyra whispered the mantra, willing her to breathe.

The two gasped for air. Their chest rising in a broken rhythm, the cold stone beneath her was jarring. Her eyes, wide and bloodshot, refused to look away from Rhaenyra’s. Around them, the maids and guards stood helpless, a silent witness to the sorrow neither could mend. Rhaenyra was first to break from the haze, pulling the princess's head to her chest in a fierce maternal hug. She inhaled Rhaenyra's scent, so achingly similar to her son's

She bellowed. If the soil was not to claim her, they would have to face her in her suffering. They would face the hollow depths of her heart, empty as her soul, ripped from her love. Her love. Her only love. Gone as the war claimed another victim. Death knew no bounds to its cruelty. Her sweet husband did not deserve to be struck from the sky. Did not deserve to be torn from his dragon. His body was condemned to drift endlessly, denied the peace of rest.

"My love," she called out, struck with grief at the notion her call would never be answered. Never again will he heed her call. Never shall her husband comfort her through her pain. Never shall she bask in his laughter. Never again shall she bask in his warmth.

"Let us help the princess," Rhaenyra hailed through unsteady breaths. The guards swarmed her side once more. Hoisting her with the utmost care for her and the babe. She stumbled over her feet as the guards stilled for their next command.

"She cannot stay here," Rhaenyra's voice echoed through her mind. Distant from the noise swirling in her head. "Place the princess in a chamber without a window she can reach." Rhaenyra's voice commanded the room with ease, despite her own bleeding heart. "Leave the room bare." She cautioned the ladies with a single glance, "Do not abandon the princess to her thoughts."

The castle blurred as she was dragged to her new cell. Her mind betrayed her, conjuring shadows of him through the corridors. The halls he would forever haunt with her memories. Every alcove was plagued by a phantom so similar to his form. The chamber was cold, so devoid of the life she had grown accustomed to. She curled upon the sheets of the lonesome bed. Her eyes fixed longingly on the light that blared from a window set too high upon the wall.

Dragonstone, born of dragonlords. Wrought in fire and sorcery. Its visage was often grim, grey, bleak and lifeless. Fog clings to its stone like a veil, heavy and unyielding over its head. The war echoed Dragonstone's nature. Devoid of light and love. A place where happiness rarely dared to bloom.

"Do you wish to frighten your husband?" He questioned. His voice knew no anger when addressing his sweet wife. No matter his mood, warmth hung on to every word.

"I wish to fly." She declared to the world. Wind laced its icy hands through her hair, painting her nose a sweet red. The soft spritz of drizzling rain only cooled them further. She was a light upon the stone, seeping her warmth in every crack. Cold and war seldom touched Jacaerys when she was near. Against the bleak grey stone, her presence was impossible to overlook. She moved with a quiet grace. It was as if a golden warmth clung to her, softening the harshness around them.

He could not resist the smile carving its way onto his features. So dear she was, tempting every blissful emotion from him. "I would urge you not to attempt to."

"It has been so long since you have let me accompany you and Vermax."

"Your condition does not favour such activities." His arms wrapped around her growing abdomen, ever so careful of the growing life. "You ought to rest."

"Rest. Rest. Rest." Her voice was a charming mockery of his. Humorous even to herself, she could not contain the plethora of giggles.

"Tease me?" He pulled her to his side and gently sat upon the soft grass. She allowed him to hold her to his lap, finding the sweet warmth of his chest behind her back. "I encourage you to mock me if you will heed my pleas." He bumped her nose with his own, a sweet display of pure affection. "Rest, wife, our babe does not yet have the endless bounds of your energy."

She made no sound of protest at resting in his lap. Her fingers idly pulled at the grass beneath her. Perchance, it was frustration lingering unspoken. Perhaps it was a restlessness etched into her bones, he could not tell. He did not mind. He did not blame her for weariness. Nor did he blame her for the life pressing against her at cruel hours of the night.

She never complained. Her lips would utter nothing but delight. She carried her swelling abdomen with subtle pride. Though never one to boast, she felt a secret triumph when walking the halls. No other woman would bear his child. Only she would. She longed to make him proud, and so she bore their babe with devotion. Fortune had favoured her where it had been so unkind to other mothers. No sickness in the early months, no swollen feet, only the occasional kick against her ribs or bladder. Though the weight upon her abdomen grew tiring, her joy outshone every discomfort. Each day brought fresh excitement at the thought of their growing family.

"It is not long now, another moon. Perhaps two." She sighed in content as his lips brushed a tender kiss upon her shoulder.

"Our lovely boy." He mumbled between kisses.

She sneered, her lips upturned in a smile. The most precious smile in the entire realm, born from his love. "How are you so sure the babe is a boy?"

He shrugged as though the fates had whispered their secret to only him. "I just know."

She pursed her lips and turned her chin defiantly. "I think it will be a girl."

He laughed, charmed as ever by her defiance. Soft but relentless. He cherished that she was no placid wife. Not a wife cowed by his stature but an equal. Bearing his name and child. "Neither will disappoint me, wife."

"Have you thought of names?" She reached for his hands. She played with them, her own dwarfing at his size, finding love in their warmth.

"Truthfully, I have not, my love"

"No? Will you wait to name the babe?"

“Names are a serious affair, my love,” he murmured, pressing kisses into her palms.

"Oh, are they?" She teased, soft giggles escaped her rosy lips at the tickles upon her palm.

“They are carried for a lifetime. They are the few things that truly belong to you. I believe you do not know your child until you first look into their eyes.”

Her smile turned sly, her voice laced to tease. "And if all else fails, and we see nothing. We can always name them Aegon or perhaps Aemond. I hear it is not so common." He did not take to it lightly, already mumbling and grumbling as her laughter wrapped around them.

Laughter faded, carried off by the gusts of wind as they fell into a serene tranquillity. The silence dragged on, though comfortable, it was loaded with what they wished to ignore from bringing up so often. Her fingers drifted back to the blades of grass, restless in their anxious play. He, in turn, fiddled with the pendant around her neck, soothing the metal as though it could soothe her.

He sighed. He could not bear to see her in this state. He stilled her hand, gently halting their ministrations. "You need not worry, my love."

“War is always cause for worry.”

"But it is you who needs not worry." His lips brushed her shoulder, then her neck, then her lips. Tender and reassuring. "It will end soon. My mother will claim what is hers, and this will be past us."

It was not enough. The promise of an end was never enough. It hurt him to know he could never soothe the blaze of worry besetting her mind. It hurt him that there was nothing he could do but promise that this soon shall end.

"Do not intervene," She could see it, his desire to interject, to end her worries. She did not give him the opportunity. "I know your desire to fight for your mother. It is an admirable one." She swallowed harshly, her throat tightening with emotion. "I worry, Jace. I worry about you."

He melted, showering her with love as though to protect her from the harms besetting the realms. "My love, do not worry. I will never leave you. The war will be over, and we will spend our lives forgetting this brief moment in time."

His words did little to soothe the storm raging in her chest. How she despised the way her husband rode off to fight in his mother's name. Despised the endless rallies for support. Each time he left, she prayed before the Sept for this to be done. For their lives to return to a comfortable peace. She prayed that by the time their child drew its first breath, these battles would be long past.

"The rain is lovely." It was all she could say. He hummed, agreeing as the soft spritz of rain chilled them. The last signs of summer.

The wind howled in agony, clawing at the stone walls of the castle. For days, the rain had not ceased. Befitting of the atmosphere within the castle. It was as though the heavens themselves mourned Jacaerys. The rain mirrored her own despair, but could not quite compete with her agony. Night after night, she wept, her sorrow like the clouds, implacable. His death was etched into every fallen tear.

The midwives and maesters moved in frantic haste within the confined chambers. The hearth burned ceaselessly for hours, flames fragile in defence against the wet, suffocating night. Blood seeped between her legs. Unnoticed until one of her ladies came to prepare her for slumber. Numbness plagued her body, the pain dulled by the persistent visions of her husband's death.

Servants darted in and out of the chamber. One rushed through the stone castle to summon the Queen. To bring Rhaenyra to the princess’s side. Yet she could not help but feel it should not have been Rhaenyra here. It should have been her husband. Her sweet love. He should have stood beside her, guiding their babe into the world. Not his mother. Still, she could not deny the babe’s grandmother the right to witness the birth of her grandchild. Even as her heart ached for the presence of her love.

She paid no mind as Rhaenyra scurried into the chamber. Nor when Daemon appeared to witness what fuss dared a servant to enter their chamber so late. Her gaze remained blank, the same hollow gaze she bore every day since. Her mind twisted through the endless memories of her beloved, as though by sheer thought she might summon him back into existence.

"Please, princess, you have to push." The midwives begged their eyes, pleading not only for the princess but also for Rhaenyra's intervention.

Rhaenyra did not falter in the face of her daughter-in-law’s vacant expression. She moved to the girl’s side, whispering softly, “Darling girl.” She pressed a tender kiss upon her brow. With gentle hands, she brushed the sweat clinging to her forehead. “It is time. Push.”

For a fleeting moment, Rhaenyra’s presence lulled her back into awareness. That fragment of consciousness was enough for pain to rudely surge through in a horrid display of torrential agony. A scream tore from her throat as her frame convulsed. She felt unbearably sweaty, unbearably sore, the pressure in her pelvis a weight no human should endure. She tangled in the bloody sheets. Writhing in her torment. No matter her mind, she could not force nature to halt. Still, her mind refused to heed the commands of her body.

"Jace would not want this." Rhaenyra pleaded with her eyes, wrought with distress.

What could Rhaenyra know of Jace’s wishes? She was his wife. This was her child. It was their baby, tearing its way into this world. A bitter urge surged through with a sick thought to threaten to punish Rhaenyra for her words. A sick urge to prove she alone knew what Jace would have wanted. How she resented Rhaenyra for the very war that took her husband. Yet all she could do was writhe upon the sheets. Her body betrayed her mind as it obeyed the commands of nature. She could not halt the waves, driving her to push. Could not silence the rhythm of life that pressed forward despite her reluctance. Nature would prevail. Nature was indifferent to her anguish. The world would only carry on.

The storm halted for no one. Through the night, its fury echoed the torment swirling within her. The pain did not relent, nor did the persistent contractions. It was hours before the first signs of progress. Hours before, the midwives glimpsed the breach of the babe’s head. The world seemed to collapse inward, narrowing around the single mantra repeated by all of the women around her. Push.

This was not how it was meant to be. Jace should have been by her side. His hand clasping hers as they awaited the first joyous wail of their child’s first breath. He should have held their babe first. Cradled in the safety of their father's arms, showered them with the love he had carried long before their birth. Before finally finding himself at his wife’s side, watching over his family. There had never been a moment when Jace did not want his child. Never a moment did he not love them. Now, there was never a moment he would know them.

At last, the midwife placed the babe upon her chest. The small wailing pink babe, wrapped snug. She searched desperately for her own features, hoping her heart might find solace in them. But the child bore little resemblance to her. His features were strong. Unmistakably his father’s. There was no doubt whose blood ran through this child, no doubt who had sired him.

"Does he have a name, princess?" A hopeful midwife inquired, however silent the chamber fell.

She had dreamt of the babe for many moons. Many nights she spent beside Jace in deep discussions, bordering on a playful argument, about their babe. Laughing, arguing, imagining. Whose eyes, smile, whose fire the child would carry. It was a tender battle. A sweet war or love between expecting parents. Neither parent minded losing. Either way, the babe would be theirs.

That was then, when she had not thought how it would be only her to know. Only she would see who won the battle. The answer belonged to her alone, and grief warped it into something unbearable. Her grip on reality faltered, slipping away yet again. Memories blurred, voices tangling into a cacophony, and silence pressed against her mind. Until thought itself slipped away.

Her brows knit. Her lips parted. Wavering open and closed. “Jace?” The name broke from her like a plea, fragile, searching. She peered down at the babe, confusion clouding her gaze.

Rhaenyra stilled beside her. Face wrought in the similar display of despair, both for her lost son to war and her son's wife lost in her mind. The midwives and maesters did not move. Respect held them silent. Pity held them still. In that silence, the princess’s confusion folded back into grief, wrapping her in the cruel truth of his absence.

The castle pulsed with warmth. Alive with the firelight and laughter. Flames blazed at the hearths, warming the ample guests. Expensive wines spilt freely into eager mouths. The halls filled with a heated glow. A glow was visible even in the deepest alcoves of the castle.

"My prince, you must not follow." She giggled, pressing her palms to her lips to stifle the sound, eyes darting between every passing figure. "The talk that will ensue if we are caught.

"Idle tongues will find scandal whether we give them a reason to or not." His body closed around hers, shielding her from wandering eyes.

Often, they played this game. Whenever she visited the castle, whenever their families sought counsel together, it was always the same. She ran and he chased. She pretended to resist but relished being caught. Though her hopeful eyes betrayed the depths of her desire that he would never stop running. She lost count of their meetings. Hidden in alcoves, tucked away in the library, and once even in her chamber. Though the memory of that night wrung her with fear of how they could have been caught. Her father would forsake her if he knew how close she flew to ruin. How each meeting made it harder for her not to surrender and give him everything.

She tried, for a brief moment in time, to slow his pursuit. She learnt quickly that Jace was not one to concede. How could the court not see? How could they all be so blind? He was besotted. Flowers arrived at her chamber daily. Endless walks were offered only to steal her company. At feasts, he danced with no other lady. His gifts grew costly, his attentions more apparent, his courtship undeniable.

They knew this spelt trouble. Still, their youth betrayed reason. They still indulged. The red string of fate bound them too tightly, for they could not wander far from each other. So they continued their clandestine meetings. Unwilling to let go of the perilous sweetness of being caught.

Her palms rested against his chest. Not in an attempt to push him away. Oh, how she wished to take hold of his tunic and pull them flush together. "But it is not just talking when you seek me in these ways. Is it?" Her eyes teased, daring him to admit his intentions were anything but pure.

Jacaerys paid no mind to the provocation. Partially, as he did not wish to confess how right she was. How pretty the flush of her cheeks, the song of her laughter made it inconceivable for him not to ravish her mouth in hidden alcoves. He could not do much but stare upon her blushing form. Her eyes were darting so often to ensure no unwanted onlookers. Despite the gossip that would ensue, she made no attempt to leave. She lingered, cornered, so very sweet, and so very his.

"Do not marry him." The words escaped before he could leash them, raw and reckless.

Her lips wavered, spluttering for an appropriate answer. "It's hardly my choice."

He shrugged, dismissing her father’s will as a trifling obstacle. When faced with the world, there was little he would not burn in pursuit of her hand. "Beg your father not to marry him."

She scoffed, though her heart betrayed her with longing. "And then? Your mother discusses your union with Helaena."

His shoulders went great taut at the mention of the possible alliance. His mother had mentioned it in passing. The promise of peace between alliances. He would not refuse if his mother instructed and arranged the union. That is what he hoped. He hoped that when the time to perform his duty came, he would not waver. But then he sees her, flushed in their momentary clandestine meetings. He, too, knows then that duty could not eclipse desire.

"Alicent will not accept such a proposal." His jaw clenched, slowly grinding his teeth.

She cupped his face, thumbs tenderly brushing across the skin. "And if she does? What then, Jace? Am I made your mistress? How unfair for Helaena. She is a sweet girl, and you may come to love her."

Her kindness cut him deeper than reproach. She would forsake herself to comfort him. He caught her hands, pressing them to his heart. "I doubt it."

"But you do not." She smiled, endeared by his petulance. "You may come to love her. If not, you will form some companionship. Besides, I do not wish to live my life wandering the shadows only for a taste. I will be insatiable. I will starve for the taste of you."

"Then marry me." He closed in on her, his nose bumping hers in pure affection.

Her cheeks bloomed with a rosy colour. Her gaze fluttered away lest she surrender so quickly. Worried that if she looked too long, she'd fold there and drag them before the Septon. "Do not make promises beyond your realm of making. Your mother is not interested in a lowly noble girl. Helaena is her decision, and you-"

"And you will humour me." He cornered her, further pushing her flush against the warmth of his chest. She could but giggle and fluster before his brazen acts. "Alicent will not accept the proposal. If I see the truth, what then? Will you marry me?"

She could all but bite her lip. Wishing to contain the hopeful smile. There was no harm in entertaining the idea? To dream that her lover might not only be hers in her heart but hers in the eyes of the realm. "How foolish of a girl I would be to say no."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, a silent invitation. He wasted no breath, claiming her lips that burned with fiery longing. He cradled the back of her head to deepen their affection. There was no duty between her lips, no alliance to be formed. Only her desire burned solely for their forbidden love.

A sudden clatter of metal against stone split them. Her hands flew to her chest as though she could still the frantic beating of her heart. Aegon staggered through the hallways, spilling wine and goblets. A drunken spectacle of incivility, muttering in annoyance at servants who struggled to steady him.

She stifled a laugh, pressing her hand to her mouth once more. “He is ghastly. Hard to believe the King sired that.”

“His mother insists he should be considered for the throne.”

“Surely not. What would he do? Sit upon the Iron Throne, drowning in wine and whores? No different than many kings, but hardly a better fit than your mother.”

“He will not trouble us,” Jace sighed, turning back to his love. He was sure Aegon was too drunk to care. His hands cradled her face, eager to reclaim their passionate moment.

“For now.” Her gaze lingered on Aegon, stumbling as Alicent swept in to scold him. Her eyes were fixed on the dowager Queen, a sense of dread crawling up her spine. Dread for the storm brewing. Dread for the tension heightening between the families. “Though I suspect he is not the one we should fear.”

Jace’s jaw tightened with disdain. “I do not think we will ever have to worry about her. Her schemes shall never ruin our moments of love.”

She toyed with the chain around her neck, eyes fixed on the pendant. A silver dragon charm, Jace had given her when she lamented having no dragon of her own. The gift had become her constant companion, lying upon her chest where her heart still ached for her husband. Her fingers drawn to it in idle moments as though the pendant carried a quiet pulse of his presence. Not long after he had gifted her the pendant, he had asked for her hand. She pleaded with her mother to let her wear the necklace on her wedding day, though it sat awkwardly against the delicate fabric of her gown. Still, she wished not to part with her dragon. Time and time again, her gaze lingered on the silver dragon resting upon her heart over the wails of her own dragon.

"The babe is hungry." The nursemaid pleaded once Rhaenyra entered the chamber. At her chest, the babe wailed. Not even the steady rocking of the nursemaid's arms could calm him.

"Have the princess feed him." Rhaenyra urged, slightly annoyed, taking her grandson from her arms.

"She won't move my Lady." The nurse grumbled in a voice still laced with pity. "I have brought the babe to her face, yet her gaze is locked. Unmoving in her mind."

Rhaenyra sighed, her agitation for the princesses' ongoing sombre moods increasing. "Princess." The endearment lacked affection. "My darling girl. Do not let your boy suffer."

Rhaenyra hurriedly placed the babe in her arms, giving the princess no choice but to break from her melancholic haze. Her baby dragon wailed at first, quieting down as though he knew the chest in which he had been laid. His tears swiftly dried. His small mouth searched instinctively for his nourishment. She sighed, loosening her shift over one shoulder so he could latch on. Rocking him without thought, the notion just seemed natural. His soft coos between suckles were the first notes of contentment she had heard from him all morning.

Rhaenyra's gaze lingered upon her form. She could not tell if the look was disappointment or pity. The castle's eyes had long mirrored the same weight. Pity for the woman who had become a miserable shell of her former self. Disappointment for the mother who failed day after day. Judgement pressed in from every direction. Constantly humiliating her in its perseverance. To be looked upon by Rhaenyra with those burdened eyes. As though more were expected of her, it was a wound deeper than any blade. It weakened her further. Driving her back into the cold embrace of despair. Isolation began to feel safer than the world's constant scrutiny.

She could not bear it any longer. Her eyes flicked from Rhaenyra to the soft bundle in her arms. He was content, hands flailing for his mother's comfort. "I do not feel myself anymore." She admitted to no one in particular. Welcoming the world to carry her confession. She could not find it in her to care when everyone knew. Rhaenyra hummed in a silent agreement as though she, too, did not know the princess anymore.

"All he does is cry." She swallowed at the hard lump agitating the back of her throat. "All I do is cry." Her eyes rimmed red, closed as tears threatened. "I birthed him with all my sorrow. I have cursed my boy with endless suffering."

Her poor babe deserved more. It should have been Jacaerys here. He would have done better. He would never have abandoned their child to drown in his own grief. How could she look upon her child without remembering the times she lay motionless, listening to her dear babe's cries go unanswered? Already she had failed him, before she had even been given a true chance to try.

Her grief‑stricken admission broke Rhaenyra’s composure. The words, raw and steeped in self‑hatred, struck Rhaenyra with a misery of her own. "All babies come into the world screaming and crying. But look how his tears dry when he lies upon his mother's chest. You did not birth him with your sorrow."

It comforted her for a moment. It was true, the babe calmed the moment he lay upon her chest. Still filled with innocence. Trusting the embrace of his mother.

"Jacaerys laid with you with love in his heart. It was with joy that he cried for days when he learned you were with child. Think of all the happiness and love sewn into your babe's blood."

The memory drew a fragile smile to her lips. Jace had wept for days. His pride overflowing as he proclaimed to the world that their love had sired a child. He could scarcely look at her for too long without tears welling in his eyes. And it was true. They had brought forth a babe born of pure devotion. Her babe's blood tied by the passion their parents had shared. In that realisation, sorrow loosened its grip for a brief moment. She felt a flicker of relief, believing that Jace’s love remained with her still, cradled contentedly in her arms.

She was restless. Utterly restless as she waited for the day to arrive. As dawn broke, the thought of being readied into her bridal gown stirred a flicker of contentment within her. Her chest warmed with the notion. Tomorrow, she would finally be wed to her love. After months of pleading with her father, she finally bore fruit. Her final night alone dragged on endlessly. She ran the brush through her hair again and again, as though each stroke might hasten time. A peaceful smile lingered on her lips as she hummed softly to herself, suspended between impatience and anticipation.

Her chamber door cracked open, seeping light into the halls. She jumped from her seat at the sudden intrusion. Her eyes hurried to find familiarity in the figure. "Jace?"

"I apologise." He whispered in a hushed tone as though he wished not to invite eager, unsolicited ears. He diverted his eyes once he glanced at her. Prepared for bed in nothing but her shift, her form peeked beneath the sheer fabric.

Her face burned with a rosy red as she scurried to find her nightgown. "What business do you have in my chambers, my love?"

He turned, offering her a moment of privacy, however much he wished to leer upon her beautiful form. "Tomorrow we wed." His voice trembled with devotion, barely containing the swell of love that consumed him.

She felt similarly. Every moment carried a ball of anticipation in her belly. Her hands slid across his chest before curling around his neck. "I shall not sleep. My blood buzzes with joy."

He chuckled, hands wrestling on the dip of her waist. Carefully needing the soft flesh. "You must sleep. 'Tis the last night you shall sleep alone."

She leaned her chin upon his chest, a silent plea beneath her sweet gaze. "How do you leave me another night with the torture of your absence?"

His hands travelled lower. His palms are dancing with a possible invitation for more. "If you wish me to stay, I would not dream of leaving."

Her eyes widened, though they betrayed a gleam of desire. "Jace." She warned.

He only laughed softly, wrapping her in his arms, urging space to forsake them. The kisses fell in a trail starting upon her crown. Then her forehead. Her brow, her nose, her lips, her jaw. Her neck in the familiar spots he knew she loved before threatening lower. She gasped audibly. Never was he so brazen in their previous meetings. He halted, lingering for any sign of protest that she did not wish for more.

"We are to be wed, and we shall spend a lifetime with one another." He uttered, noticing as her chest heaved with a peculiar blend of anxiety and passion. "Longer than the time we have spent apart. What is one night sooner?"

"You think I will give in to temptation?" She chuckled. Her resolve faltered as he continued his attention.

His eyes echoed her desire, gleaming with possibilities the night had to offer. "You are a temptation itself."

She threw her head back, throat bubbling with sweet laughter. "Unfair, I was not lounging about my chambers, hoping you would barge in and glance upon what should be your surprise for your wedding night."

His smile was boyish, guilty yet unrepentant. "I got my surprise early. You are beautiful. Exquisite"

She flushed, hiding her face against his chest. His words carried the same adoration she had always known. Only now it was laced with hunger.

"Time is most cruel." She complained, nuzzling her head into the crook of his neck. Her eyelashes fluttered against his skin, sending shivers down his spine. "It's slow when we so wish for it to hurry."

"It's almost as though it is up to us to make the most of our time."

She thought of the wedding. In the singular moment, their hands would be bound. From then on, she would never know a day without him. The only regret she imagined in the years to come was that she had not loved him sooner. That she had not seized every fleeting moment before eternity stretched out before them. Even with forever promised, she longed to have gathered more of the present into her embrace.

"There might come a day I regret not spending another night with you." She muttered, her mind racing as she pondered the situation.

"Such a day will not come," he vowed, certain their hearts would never part.

"There is no wrong. We are to be wed so soon. Tomorrow will be ruled by merriment. I would hate for us to be so tired come the time we are alone."

"I shall never be devoid of energy in your presence."

She blushed, feeling the depths of his excitement upon her lower abdomen. "I can feel." She teased.

"I apologise, my love." Flushed with momentary shame, he pulled back as though not to force her to endure his desire.

"Do not. It warms my heart that you wish for me so desperately," she guided him until her knees brushed the bed. Falling back, she awaited his choice. "It warms me in more ways than one."

He did not follow, not yet, not til he was sure her wishes matched his own. "Do you wish for me to take my departure?"

She slowly shook her head, biting at the sensitive skin on her lips. Her hands reached for him, tugging at his tunic. He yielded, covering her body with the largeness of his own. Their lips met, and passion surged. His hands lingered at her knees, inching higher as desire overcame restraint.

She woke in a foul mood. From the moment she opened her eyes, the memories of last night crawled back. Unwelcome and unbidden. Oh, how she cursed the feast. Cursed those who attended. Cursed herself for going. Cursed her naivety. A feast meant as a celebration had soured into her own humiliation.

Every Lord and Lady had come upon the Queen's request. She had attended simply out of duty. She would rather have spent the evening listening to her son's soft coos as she read aloud poems Jacaerys once recited to her. But Rhaenyra had summoned her herself. Only upon arrival did she realise how suspicious the Queen's intentions were.

"Where is my son?" She demanded, tone still sharp from the night before.

The nursemaid barely looked up, paying no mind to the princess's tone. "He is with the queen, my lady."

She clenched her teeth. Agitation crawled up her spine as she stormed off, nursemaid on her tail. Each step weighed heavily with anger. She could not believe how Rhaenyra's scheming had blindsided her. It was not unusual for Rhaenyra to request her presence at such festivities. It was, however, highly unusual for her to encourage lords from houses she did not care to remember to entertain her all night. Lord after lord attempted to press her for dances, ply her with wine and vie for her attention. Their sudden interest perplexed her. That was until she later realised it was Rhaenyra's doing. It was the Queen's deliberate meddling.

"What are you doing?" She inquired, chest tight with fury.

Rhaenyra did not flinch. She tickled her grandson's belly, smiling. "He sat with me during counsel. He is to be King one day."

Her rage flared hotter. "He is far too young to begin his instruction. He does not need to be surrounded by hardened lords and their crude chatter." She lifted her pudgy babe, his hand reaching for the pendant swaying before his face, before handing him to the nursemaid. "His ears are too young for such poison."

"Princess, it is not an issue. I assure you the boy is fine." Rhaenyra attempted gently.

"That is solely my concern."

Rhaenyra's patience thinned. "He is my boy's son. It concerns me."

"He is my boy." She spat, teeth bare, defensive and ready to fight. "It will always concern me most."

The Queen’s composure cracked, anger threatening her as well. "Are you upset about last night's affairs?"

Her fury spilt over. "How dare you? How dare you encourage men to mingle with me? Have you no respect for your son? I was his wife. I do not need any lowly lord's flattery."

"It has been some time, princess. Months. You are alone." She attempted to reason with her. "No one in the realm would begrudge you if you opened your heart to love again."

She shook her head. Her body recoiled at the thought. "It is not open to love, nor does it desire love."

"You will forsake love entirely?" Rhaenyra pressed, her presence firm but not domineering. "Why? Must you still punish yourself? Does guilt eat at you still? You are not incapable of love, nor will a new love replace Jace. You are allowed to love."

"I will not speak on this matter anymore." The mention of Jace’s name struck a raw nerve. She screeched, as though the wound had been torn open anew. "You may be Queen, but this is beyond your realm of rule. You will not orchestrate such treachery against my love again." She turned to leave, her son fussing at the sharpness of her tone. "And do not take my son from his crib without consulting me," she warned.

Rhaenyra scoffed, shaking her head. "I have had many sons, princess-"

She turned on her heel, her anger preventing her from knowing better than not to feed into every fight "So you know better?"

The implication was there, it hung heavy, and it did not escape Rhaenyra's notice. The queen had stiffened as though preparing herself for the worst of the princess's blows. She ought to back down now, to tuck her head and hurry out before she truly regrets her words. But she could not.

These days, she was quick to rage. It seemed day by day she was tested. She was never someone quick to anger, a trait Jace had acknowledged himself. Though now it was though there was always a simmering pit of anger at the base of her stomach waiting for anyone to ignite it.

"Speak then", Rhaenyra's voice was cold and challenging.

"What will you have me say?" she hissed. Resentment long and festering finally broke free. She looked around her in mock search. "Where are your boys?"

The words hung heavy. She regretted them instantly. She knew how Rhaenyra loved her sons. How little she wished for them to be complicit in the war. But grief clawed for blame, for someone to carry the weight she could not. Had her whole family not waged war, she would not be without a husband. Her boy would not be without a father.

"With what foulness has corrupted your heart?" Rhaenyra spat back her offence mounting. Her voice was laced with signs that she genuinely felt hurt by the girl's words. "I don't recall this woman as the one my son begged for. You think he peers upon you with pride? Where is that girl?"

"Gone."

"No, she stands before me. Hidden beneath her cowardness. Incapable. Bowing to fear."

She huffed a sardonic laugh, breaking halfway into a sob, she refused to let escape "What do you know of what I fear?"

"You fear life beyond my boy. You fear there is life after his death. You do not know yourself because you fear discovering what you can be without him."

"Save me your lectures. I need not hear it from you."

"Heed not to mine. Lecture me openly I shall save you from any punishment. What do you have to say?"

Her voice faltered, guilt twisting into accusation. “Was it worth it? He fought for you. He died for you. And yet it was not you who reaped the consequence. It was not you who was struck down. Was it worth your boys? Was the throne worth it?”

"I did not wish for my son to fight my battles." Rhaenyra faltered, her voice cracking under the weight of loss.

Her throat burned, tears spilling freely now. “And yet he did. And still you sit upon your throne as though unscathed. All I see is the woman who got what she wanted at the expense of everyone. I bleed openly from a wound that will never close. As far as I know, my son lives, and yours do not. I do not need lectures from such a mother. It will always concern me most."

She turned from the hall, ignoring Rhaenyra’s further words. Hot tears rained down her face. A storm perpetually swirling within her chest. She needed someone to take the blame. For anyone to admit this war had not been worth it. Everyone else seemed to move on. They had exempted themselves from the ruin they had wrought. But she was still here, carrying grief like a brand upon her chest. Searching for someone to grieve him as openly as she did. Searching for someone to understand that her love had not died with him.

Sunlight pressed through the lace curtains, the delicate beams scattering across the chamber. The air still carried a faint perfume of oils and candle wax mingling with the faint smell of their coupling. Light bounced off the sheets covering their tangled bodies. Their love lay exposed to the tender glow of dawn.

She stirred, twisting in the sheets and mess of limbs. Her eyes caught the rising sun. Beside her, Jacaerys law sprawled in perfect contentment. His dark curls haloed by the light. His breath was steady and untroubled by the world. The sight of him so unguarded and utterly hers made her chest ache with sweetness,

Yet the world beyond this bed was already stirring. The muffled clatter of servants echoed through the stone walls. A reminder that time was not theirs alone. She clutched the sheets to her chest. Her limbs still tangled with his. Her heart leapt as the memory struck her straight to her chest. Their wedding. Today. In mere hours, the entire realm would bear witness to their union.

"Go, you must go now." Her eyes widened, urgency breaking through the haze of love. She shook him gently, whispering, "My ladies will be here soon. They cannot see us in such a state." Jacaerys blinked awake, groggy, his lashes heavy with sleep. He rubbed his eyes, protesting with a low sound that made her blush despite herself.

He did not move with such haste, preferring to wake slowly. He only chuckled, slow and lazy, his smile softening her panic. His body held on to no shame. He did not hide from her nudity, nor his own. Rather, he gazed at her with unyielding adoration, as though their love was the only truth in this world. "Let me look upon you one last time," he teased, his voice deep and husky. His words meant to wring laughter from her worry.

"Jace, you will see me tonight and every night after that. You will indulge in those moments henceforth. You must take your leave. We do not have time."

He did not listen. He gathered her into his arms. The sheets fell uselessly to the floor. "No, let me look upon you one more time. I beg, my love." His hands trailed lazily up her sides before lingering at the pendant still resting upon her chest. The only thing they had not discarded the night before. He did not say much for a while, his eyes just peering into her own. His eyes flickered watching her, as though he was deep in thought.

"What difference shall it make from tonight?" She chuckled, blushing and still trying to cover herself with whatever sheet she could grasp from him.

"Because we will never be here again." He murmured softly. His voice gave no way that this was meant to tease. "I will never be a love-struck boy again. I will be a man. A husband." His words silenced the world around them, honing in on the space between their bodies. Only for them. Her heart pounded at the words. Stilling at his admission before rapidly pounding beneath her ribs. Her brain turned with the implication. This would be the last moment before they were man and wife. Their days of clandestine meetings were over. Never would they have the need to hide and steal moments when time now offered them the world.

"I will never know you like this again." He said, casting each sheet aside. This time, she did not fight for the sheets back but rather let him remove any barrier between them. She could not find it in her to care about the discarded sheets or how she lay bare before him. His words had undone her, stripped her of fear more thoroughly than his hands ever could.

He kissed her in a blazing trail with pure love. First her stomach, her chest, her throat, then her cheek. Each was a promise. "I am prepared to love you in every way you come to me." He mumbled between kisses. "Change how you please, there will never be a version of you I will not love."

She melted her mind, clouded with only him. Her apprehension left her as they tangled their limbs once more, bodies closing in on one another. He pulled back and bumped his nose against hers in affection. "But let me love you one more time just as you are now. I have the privilege to love you in every way for the rest of time. I do not want to miss a moment."

All fight left her, surrendering as the sun climbed higher. She melted into his form, tangling them limbs once more. Time was not a worry when they had forever to share it. They did not need to worry about the sunrise or the maids. Not when time bent to their will. This moment would stretch on before it would fall into the funny grips of time.

The sun rose high in the sky, glimmering against the last signs of rain clinging to every leaf. The earth felt warm beneath her, releasing the final moments of the day before night came to claim it.

Her child crawled on the grass, fingers tugging at the blades to reveal the soil beneath them. Dark, wet and fragrant with the smell of replenished earth. He giggled at his discovery. His joys knew no bounds, his world vast and waiting for him. She smiled, a warmth blossoming through her chest as she watched her baby dragon. She encouraged him. Encouraged his happiness, his fearlessness. For him to explore without fear of the hidden anguish in this world.

Rhaenyra slowly approached, her presence heavy after weeks of silence. Shame had kept her away from Rhaenyra. Guilt gnawed at her stomach for striking the wound of loss. A loss they both shared. Only the two could understand the pain of such a wound. The love for their child, and the hollow ache left behind once they were gone.

Lowering herself beside the princess, Rhaenyra’s gaze softened at the boy’s unbridled joy. “He reminds me so much of Jace at that age,” she murmured, extending a fragile branch of peace.

She felt her throat tighten, only nodding. Words would betray her if she dared open her mouth. So for some time her eyes remained fixed on her child as though searching for herself in his reflection. A familiarity she had lost quite some time ago.

"I do not know me, my lady," she confessed at last, her voice trembling under the weight of uncertainty.

"Few of us do, when sorrow endures." Rhaenyra's voice held no judgment, just opportunity.

"I will always miss Jacaerys." She admitted, though her tears were slow to come. So often she had cried, she did not have it in her anymore to shed another tear. "He was my love, and I knew only the love he gave. Grief has become my sole companion. So constant I do not remember life without it. Happiness and warmth are momentary. It always yields to this permanent ache. I miss him," She admitted her voice wavering as she struggled to admit what she held so hidden for so long, "but i miss myself too."

"Sorrow has its way in forcing change. It carves us whether we will it to or not."

"I was not ignorant. We were at war. I had thought many times he may not return. I knew there was that chance and I knew if it happened I would experience the depths of grief." She admitted, the words ashy in her mouth. The wind threatened the spill every secret it carried. "But I believed I would not change. That this grief would weigh upon my chest, but that it would still be my chest."

She diverted her gaze, her eyes drifting to her son. He crawled, babbling a plethora of nonsense without knowledge of his mother’s pain. She smiled, happy for a moment that her son was happy. Her heart was grateful that his joy was untouched. How often she prayed he would never have to endure such sorrow.

"I keep remembering the person I was with Jace. These memories I play on loop everyday. Remembering me and that I was still the woman he loved and that love would help me carry on now that he is gone." Tears threatened, her eyes rimmed red. "But I am not that girl in those memories anymore."

Rhaenyra only nodded. She knew better than the way in which grief stormed through the world, carving its change with no regard for who it harmed. How few people came unscathed by its touch. She, too, had lost more than most, fragments of her heart scattered across the graves of children she would forever miss.

"I wish I were as fearless as Jace. He courted me openly, defied my father, and asked for my hand without hesitation. He came to me simply because he wished for me." She admitted smiling, though her eyes betrayed the constant ache. But the memories were too sweet to bow down to this constant grief.

"Jace was unlike you in many ways. You cannot keep searching for answers within him. He can do no more than leave you loved. He cannot live for you. Your boy cannot live for you." Her voice held a motherly tone she had heard so often when Rhaenyra addressed Jace.

"I fear I died with him."

Rhaenyra sucked in a harsh breath, "You did not-"

"No. I did not die with him." Her smile was pained, "That is what I fear. That for so long I believed I was gone, and it hurts to wake some days knowing I am here. Alive with purpose still. It feels wrong. Unfair."

Rhaenyra nodded. Death did not know how to play fair. Many were taken, though they deserved better. "Death seldom bows to fairness." She agreed, her brows furrowed in contemplation. "Though it is better to live, no matter how brief the moment. The moment Jace had was beautiful. He was loved from the moment he came into this world to his very last breath."

She nodded, a pained smile gracing her lips. Rhaenyra was right. However brief he was here. Jace was here. Beautifully alive for just a moment, and she of all people had the privilege to bask in just how lovely he was. For so long in her life, all she knew was happiness because of him.

"I will not love again." It was not an attempt at punishing herself, but rather her admitting a truth.

"Do not deny yourself love, just because you lost yours."

"No, that is not it. This is not punishment. I was luckier than most. From the moment I met Jace, I was never unloved. To live through such unwavering devotion was unlike anything I will experience. For that, I am grateful, but I loved just as strongly as he had. I've given all my love. To Jace and our boy. I was allowed to love Jace for a moment, and my boy, I will love for a lifetime. I have no love left to give but to myself."

Rhaenyra smiled through her words, the last of the sun warming the earth to lull them into a moment of content. "Jace would be proud of you."

Her eyes flickered between memories of Jace, just as she had for so many months now, before flickering to their child. For a fleeting moment, the world was still. The ache remained. Grief still pressed upon her chest, but slowly it made space for peace. The last light of day kissed her skin, and she breathed. Alive and grateful, for she was at last at peace.

Grief reverberated through stone walls, war-torn and weary, unable to endure another loss. She stood rigid before the widowpane, the world pressing in around her. Vast, indifferent, unyielding as the soil claimed another soul. But it was her soul buried with her love. Drowned with her love. Her lungs filled with water; each breath was a struggle. The endless landscape beckoned her. Whispering for her to join him. The weeds ready to entwine her body in a cruel embrace.

She would not fall. No, she would soar. A dragon does not bow to the soil. Their home was the endless sky above. A dragon takes flight. And within her, a dragon stirred, growing in her belly. She would soar.

"Princess, we beg you to sit."

The maids clung to her with a merciless grip. Worry seeped through every crack in the castle. She mindlessly moved towards the window. The air drew her in, pressing against every stone, as though it too longed to welcome her. Soon, she would join her beloved. The maids desperately urged her, placing their trembling hands upon the princess. So seldom would they be so brash. Their nails bit into the soft flesh of her arms, pulling her from the precipice.

No. Forsake the Gods, for they could not intervene now. The heavens had opened, and she would face their wrath for her choices. How could she bear the news? Surely he would not forsake her for joining him. Certainly with joy, he would welcome his babe and wife. There would be no pain then when faced with her husband.

She pressed forward, her hands grazing the clouds. The door burst open, torn from its hinges. The guards seized her, forcing her onto the bed.

The endless world pressed heavily on her breast. A scream tore from her throat. Glass-shattering, flesh-ripping, until her voice broke into sobs. She choked on her sobs. Drowning in her own tears. Spluttering as her body betrayed her mind. Against her will, it fought for air. It fought for life. And that, more than anything, was her dismay.

Noise dissolved into darkness, taking her vision with it. Her body convulsed beneath the weight of woe. For some time, the world moved around her. Yet, she remained frozen, trapped in sorrow's grip.

Her ears rang, struggling to separate the chaos of sound until one word pierced through. "Breath."

The command shot through every vein, igniting a fire. How long had she been lost in the pit of her despair? When had Rhaenyra come to her side? Her lungs burned with the fresh air. Her chest was rising and falling in an erratic rhythm. Rhaenyra bent close, face stained with anguish, fresh tears still carving their mark upon her cheek. Again and again, Rhaenyra whispered the mantra, willing her to breathe.

The two gasped for air. Their chest rising in a broken rhythm, the cold stone beneath her was jarring. Her eyes, wide and bloodshot, refused to look away from Rhaenyra’s. Around them, the maids and guards stood helpless, a silent witness to the sorrow neither could mend. Rhaenyra was first to break from the haze, pulling the princess's head to her chest in a fierce maternal hug. She inhaled Rhaenyra's scent, so achingly similar to her son's

She bellowed. If the soil was not to claim her, they would have to face her in her suffering. They would face the hollow depths of her heart, empty as her soul, ripped from her love. Her love. Her only love. Gone as the war claimed another victim. Death knew no bounds to its cruelty. Her sweet husband did not deserve to be struck from the sky. Did not deserve to be torn from his dragon. His body was condemned to drift endlessly, denied the peace of rest.

"My love," she called out, struck with grief at the notion her call would never be answered. Never again will he heed her call. Never shall her husband comfort her through her pain. Never shall she bask in his laughter. Never again shall she bask in his warmth.

"Let us help the princess," Rhaenyra hailed through unsteady breaths. The guards swarmed her side once more. Hoisting her with the utmost care for her and the babe. She stumbled over her feet as the guards stilled for their next command.

"She cannot stay here," Rhaenyra's voice echoed through her mind. Distant from the noise swirling in her head. "Place the princess in a chamber without a window she can reach." Rhaenyra's voice commanded the room with ease, despite her own bleeding heart. "Leave the room bare." She cautioned the ladies with a single glance, "Do not abandon the princess to her thoughts."

The castle blurred as she was dragged to her new cell. Her mind betrayed her, conjuring shadows of him through the corridors. The halls he would forever haunt with her memories. Every alcove was plagued by a phantom so similar to his form. The chamber was cold, so devoid of the life she had grown accustomed to. She curled upon the sheets of the lonesome bed. Her eyes fixed longingly on the light that blared from a window set too high upon the wall.

Dragonstone, born of dragonlords. Wrought in fire and sorcery. Its visage was often grim, grey, bleak and lifeless. Fog clings to its stone like a veil, heavy and unyielding over its head. The war echoed Dragonstone's nature. Devoid of light and love. A place where happiness rarely dared to bloom.

"Do you wish to frighten your husband?" He questioned. His voice knew no anger when addressing his sweet wife. No matter his mood, warmth hung on to every word.

"I wish to fly." She declared to the world. Wind laced its icy hands through her hair, painting her nose a sweet red. The soft spritz of drizzling rain only cooled them further. She was a light upon the stone, seeping her warmth in every crack. Cold and war seldom touched Jacaerys when she was near. Against the bleak grey stone, her presence was impossible to overlook. She moved with a quiet grace. It was as if a golden warmth clung to her, softening the harshness around them.

He could not resist the smile carving its way onto his features. So dear she was, tempting every blissful emotion from him. "I would urge you not to attempt to."

"It has been so long since you have let me accompany you and Vermax."

"Your condition does not favour such activities." His arms wrapped around her growing abdomen, ever so careful of the growing life. "You ought to rest."

"Rest. Rest. Rest." Her voice was a charming mockery of his. Humorous even to herself, she could not contain the plethora of giggles.

"Tease me?" He pulled her to his side and gently sat upon the soft grass. She allowed him to hold her to his lap, finding the sweet warmth of his chest behind her back. "I encourage you to mock me if you will heed my pleas." He bumped her nose with his own, a sweet display of pure affection. "Rest, wife, our babe does not yet have the endless bounds of your energy."

She made no sound of protest at resting in his lap. Her fingers idly pulled at the grass beneath her. Perchance, it was frustration lingering unspoken. Perhaps it was a restlessness etched into her bones, he could not tell. He did not mind. He did not blame her for weariness. Nor did he blame her for the life pressing against her at cruel hours of the night.

She never complained. Her lips would utter nothing but delight. She carried her swelling abdomen with subtle pride. Though never one to boast, she felt a secret triumph when walking the halls. No other woman would bear his child. Only she would. She longed to make him proud, and so she bore their babe with devotion. Fortune had favoured her where it had been so unkind to other mothers. No sickness in the early months, no swollen feet, only the occasional kick against her ribs or bladder. Though the weight upon her abdomen grew tiring, her joy outshone every discomfort. Each day brought fresh excitement at the thought of their growing family.

"It is not long now, another moon. Perhaps two." She sighed in content as his lips brushed a tender kiss upon her shoulder.

"Our lovely boy." He mumbled between kisses.

She sneered, her lips upturned in a smile. The most precious smile in the entire realm, born from his love. "How are you so sure the babe is a boy?"

He shrugged as though the fates had whispered their secret to only him. "I just know."

She pursed her lips and turned her chin defiantly. "I think it will be a girl."

He laughed, charmed as ever by her defiance. Soft but relentless. He cherished that she was no placid wife. Not a wife cowed by his stature but an equal. Bearing his name and child. "Neither will disappoint me, wife."

"Have you thought of names?" She reached for his hands. She played with them, her own dwarfing at his size, finding love in their warmth.

"Truthfully, I have not, my love"

"No? Will you wait to name the babe?"

“Names are a serious affair, my love,” he murmured, pressing kisses into her palms.

"Oh, are they?" She teased, soft giggles escaped her rosy lips at the tickles upon her palm.

“They are carried for a lifetime. They are the few things that truly belong to you. I believe you do not know your child until you first look into their eyes.”

Her smile turned sly, her voice laced to tease. "And if all else fails, and we see nothing. We can always name them Aegon or perhaps Aemond. I hear it is not so common." He did not take to it lightly, already mumbling and grumbling as her laughter wrapped around them.

Laughter faded, carried off by the gusts of wind as they fell into a serene tranquillity. The silence dragged on, though comfortable, it was loaded with what they wished to ignore from bringing up so often. Her fingers drifted back to the blades of grass, restless in their anxious play. He, in turn, fiddled with the pendant around her neck, soothing the metal as though it could soothe her.

He sighed. He could not bear to see her in this state. He stilled her hand, gently halting their ministrations. "You need not worry, my love."

“War is always cause for worry.”

"But it is you who needs not worry." His lips brushed her shoulder, then her neck, then her lips. Tender and reassuring. "It will end soon. My mother will claim what is hers, and this will be past us."

It was not enough. The promise of an end was never enough. It hurt him to know he could never soothe the blaze of worry besetting her mind. It hurt him that there was nothing he could do but promise that this soon shall end.

"Do not intervene," She could see it, his desire to interject, to end her worries. She did not give him the opportunity. "I know your desire to fight for your mother. It is an admirable one." She swallowed harshly, her throat tightening with emotion. "I worry, Jace. I worry about you."

He melted, showering her with love as though to protect her from the harms besetting the realms. "My love, do not worry. I will never leave you. The war will be over, and we will spend our lives forgetting this brief moment in time."

His words did little to soothe the storm raging in her chest. How she despised the way her husband rode off to fight in his mother's name. Despised the endless rallies for support. Each time he left, she prayed before the Sept for this to be done. For their lives to return to a comfortable peace. She prayed that by the time their child drew its first breath, these battles would be long past.

"The rain is lovely." It was all she could say. He hummed, agreeing as the soft spritz of rain chilled them. The last signs of summer.

The wind howled in agony, clawing at the stone walls of the castle. For days, the rain had not ceased. Befitting of the atmosphere within the castle. It was as though the heavens themselves mourned Jacaerys. The rain mirrored her own despair, but could not quite compete with her agony. Night after night, she wept, her sorrow like the clouds, implacable. His death was etched into every fallen tear.

The midwives and maesters moved in frantic haste within the confined chambers. The hearth burned ceaselessly for hours, flames fragile in defence against the wet, suffocating night. Blood seeped between her legs. Unnoticed until one of her ladies came to prepare her for slumber. Numbness plagued her body, the pain dulled by the persistent visions of her husband's death.

Servants darted in and out of the chamber. One rushed through the stone castle to summon the Queen. To bring Rhaenyra to the princess’s side. Yet she could not help but feel it should not have been Rhaenyra here. It should have been her husband. Her sweet love. He should have stood beside her, guiding their babe into the world. Not his mother. Still, she could not deny the babe’s grandmother the right to witness the birth of her grandchild. Even as her heart ached for the presence of her love.

She paid no mind as Rhaenyra scurried into the chamber. Nor when Daemon appeared to witness what fuss dared a servant to enter their chamber so late. Her gaze remained blank, the same hollow gaze she bore every day since. Her mind twisted through the endless memories of her beloved, as though by sheer thought she might summon him back into existence.

"Please, princess, you have to push." The midwives begged their eyes, pleading not only for the princess but also for Rhaenyra's intervention.

Rhaenyra did not falter in the face of her daughter-in-law’s vacant expression. She moved to the girl’s side, whispering softly, “Darling girl.” She pressed a tender kiss upon her brow. With gentle hands, she brushed the sweat clinging to her forehead. “It is time. Push.”

For a fleeting moment, Rhaenyra’s presence lulled her back into awareness. That fragment of consciousness was enough for pain to rudely surge through in a horrid display of torrential agony. A scream tore from her throat as her frame convulsed. She felt unbearably sweaty, unbearably sore, the pressure in her pelvis a weight no human should endure. She tangled in the bloody sheets. Writhing in her torment. No matter her mind, she could not force nature to halt. Still, her mind refused to heed the commands of her body.

"Jace would not want this." Rhaenyra pleaded with her eyes, wrought with distress.

What could Rhaenyra know of Jace’s wishes? She was his wife. This was her child. It was their baby, tearing its way into this world. A bitter urge surged through with a sick thought to threaten to punish Rhaenyra for her words. A sick urge to prove she alone knew what Jace would have wanted. How she resented Rhaenyra for the very war that took her husband. Yet all she could do was writhe upon the sheets. Her body betrayed her mind as it obeyed the commands of nature. She could not halt the waves, driving her to push. Could not silence the rhythm of life that pressed forward despite her reluctance. Nature would prevail. Nature was indifferent to her anguish. The world would only carry on.

The storm halted for no one. Through the night, its fury echoed the torment swirling within her. The pain did not relent, nor did the persistent contractions. It was hours before the first signs of progress. Hours before, the midwives glimpsed the breach of the babe’s head. The world seemed to collapse inward, narrowing around the single mantra repeated by all of the women around her. Push.

This was not how it was meant to be. Jace should have been by her side. His hand clasping hers as they awaited the first joyous wail of their child’s first breath. He should have held their babe first. Cradled in the safety of their father's arms, showered them with the love he had carried long before their birth. Before finally finding himself at his wife’s side, watching over his family. There had never been a moment when Jace did not want his child. Never a moment did he not love them. Now, there was never a moment he would know them.

At last, the midwife placed the babe upon her chest. The small wailing pink babe, wrapped snug. She searched desperately for her own features, hoping her heart might find solace in them. But the child bore little resemblance to her. His features were strong. Unmistakably his father’s. There was no doubt whose blood ran through this child, no doubt who had sired him.

"Does he have a name, princess?" A hopeful midwife inquired, however silent the chamber fell.

She had dreamt of the babe for many moons. Many nights she spent beside Jace in deep discussions, bordering on a playful argument, about their babe. Laughing, arguing, imagining. Whose eyes, smile, whose fire the child would carry. It was a tender battle. A sweet war or love between expecting parents. Neither parent minded losing. Either way, the babe would be theirs.

That was then, when she had not thought how it would be only her to know. Only she would see who won the battle. The answer belonged to her alone, and grief warped it into something unbearable. Her grip on reality faltered, slipping away yet again. Memories blurred, voices tangling into a cacophony, and silence pressed against her mind. Until thought itself slipped away.

Her brows knit. Her lips parted. Wavering open and closed. “Jace?” The name broke from her like a plea, fragile, searching. She peered down at the babe, confusion clouding her gaze.

Rhaenyra stilled beside her. Face wrought in the similar display of despair, both for her lost son to war and her son's wife lost in her mind. The midwives and maesters did not move. Respect held them silent. Pity held them still. In that silence, the princess’s confusion folded back into grief, wrapping her in the cruel truth of his absence.

The castle pulsed with warmth. Alive with the firelight and laughter. Flames blazed at the hearths, warming the ample guests. Expensive wines spilt freely into eager mouths. The halls filled with a heated glow. A glow was visible even in the deepest alcoves of the castle.

"My prince, you must not follow." She giggled, pressing her palms to her lips to stifle the sound, eyes darting between every passing figure. "The talk that will ensue if we are caught.

"Idle tongues will find scandal whether we give them a reason to or not." His body closed around hers, shielding her from wandering eyes.

Often, they played this game. Whenever she visited the castle, whenever their families sought counsel together, it was always the same. She ran and he chased. She pretended to resist but relished being caught. Though her hopeful eyes betrayed the depths of her desire that he would never stop running. She lost count of their meetings. Hidden in alcoves, tucked away in the library, and once even in her chamber. Though the memory of that night wrung her with fear of how they could have been caught. Her father would forsake her if he knew how close she flew to ruin. How each meeting made it harder for her not to surrender and give him everything.

She tried, for a brief moment in time, to slow his pursuit. She learnt quickly that Jace was not one to concede. How could the court not see? How could they all be so blind? He was besotted. Flowers arrived at her chamber daily. Endless walks were offered only to steal her company. At feasts, he danced with no other lady. His gifts grew costly, his attentions more apparent, his courtship undeniable.

They knew this spelt trouble. Still, their youth betrayed reason. They still indulged. The red string of fate bound them too tightly, for they could not wander far from each other. So they continued their clandestine meetings. Unwilling to let go of the perilous sweetness of being caught.

Her palms rested against his chest. Not in an attempt to push him away. Oh, how she wished to take hold of his tunic and pull them flush together. "But it is not just talking when you seek me in these ways. Is it?" Her eyes teased, daring him to admit his intentions were anything but pure.

Jacaerys paid no mind to the provocation. Partially, as he did not wish to confess how right she was. How pretty the flush of her cheeks, the song of her laughter made it inconceivable for him not to ravish her mouth in hidden alcoves. He could not do much but stare upon her blushing form. Her eyes were darting so often to ensure no unwanted onlookers. Despite the gossip that would ensue, she made no attempt to leave. She lingered, cornered, so very sweet, and so very his.

"Do not marry him." The words escaped before he could leash them, raw and reckless.

Her lips wavered, spluttering for an appropriate answer. "It's hardly my choice."

He shrugged, dismissing her father’s will as a trifling obstacle. When faced with the world, there was little he would not burn in pursuit of her hand. "Beg your father not to marry him."

She scoffed, though her heart betrayed her with longing. "And then? Your mother discusses your union with Helaena."

His shoulders went great taut at the mention of the possible alliance. His mother had mentioned it in passing. The promise of peace between alliances. He would not refuse if his mother instructed and arranged the union. That is what he hoped. He hoped that when the time to perform his duty came, he would not waver. But then he sees her, flushed in their momentary clandestine meetings. He, too, knows then that duty could not eclipse desire.

"Alicent will not accept such a proposal." His jaw clenched, slowly grinding his teeth.

She cupped his face, thumbs tenderly brushing across the skin. "And if she does? What then, Jace? Am I made your mistress? How unfair for Helaena. She is a sweet girl, and you may come to love her."

Her kindness cut him deeper than reproach. She would forsake herself to comfort him. He caught her hands, pressing them to his heart. "I doubt it."

"But you do not." She smiled, endeared by his petulance. "You may come to love her. If not, you will form some companionship. Besides, I do not wish to live my life wandering the shadows only for a taste. I will be insatiable. I will starve for the taste of you."

"Then marry me." He closed in on her, his nose bumping hers in pure affection.

Her cheeks bloomed with a rosy colour. Her gaze fluttered away lest she surrender so quickly. Worried that if she looked too long, she'd fold there and drag them before the Septon. "Do not make promises beyond your realm of making. Your mother is not interested in a lowly noble girl. Helaena is her decision, and you-"

"And you will humour me." He cornered her, further pushing her flush against the warmth of his chest. She could but giggle and fluster before his brazen acts. "Alicent will not accept the proposal. If I see the truth, what then? Will you marry me?"

She could all but bite her lip. Wishing to contain the hopeful smile. There was no harm in entertaining the idea? To dream that her lover might not only be hers in her heart but hers in the eyes of the realm. "How foolish of a girl I would be to say no."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, a silent invitation. He wasted no breath, claiming her lips that burned with fiery longing. He cradled the back of her head to deepen their affection. There was no duty between her lips, no alliance to be formed. Only her desire burned solely for their forbidden love.

A sudden clatter of metal against stone split them. Her hands flew to her chest as though she could still the frantic beating of her heart. Aegon staggered through the hallways, spilling wine and goblets. A drunken spectacle of incivility, muttering in annoyance at servants who struggled to steady him.

She stifled a laugh, pressing her hand to her mouth once more. “He is ghastly. Hard to believe the King sired that.”

“His mother insists he should be considered for the throne.”

“Surely not. What would he do? Sit upon the Iron Throne, drowning in wine and whores? No different than many kings, but hardly a better fit than your mother.”

“He will not trouble us,” Jace sighed, turning back to his love. He was sure Aegon was too drunk to care. His hands cradled her face, eager to reclaim their passionate moment.

“For now.” Her gaze lingered on Aegon, stumbling as Alicent swept in to scold him. Her eyes were fixed on the dowager Queen, a sense of dread crawling up her spine. Dread for the storm brewing. Dread for the tension heightening between the families. “Though I suspect he is not the one we should fear.”

Jace’s jaw tightened with disdain. “I do not think we will ever have to worry about her. Her schemes shall never ruin our moments of love.”

She toyed with the chain around her neck, eyes fixed on the pendant. A silver dragon charm, Jace had given her when she lamented having no dragon of her own. The gift had become her constant companion, lying upon her chest where her heart still ached for her husband. Her fingers drawn to it in idle moments as though the pendant carried a quiet pulse of his presence. Not long after he had gifted her the pendant, he had asked for her hand. She pleaded with her mother to let her wear the necklace on her wedding day, though it sat awkwardly against the delicate fabric of her gown. Still, she wished not to part with her dragon. Time and time again, her gaze lingered on the silver dragon resting upon her heart over the wails of her own dragon.

"The babe is hungry." The nursemaid pleaded once Rhaenyra entered the chamber. At her chest, the babe wailed. Not even the steady rocking of the nursemaid's arms could calm him.

"Have the princess feed him." Rhaenyra urged, slightly annoyed, taking her grandson from her arms.

"She won't move my Lady." The nurse grumbled in a voice still laced with pity. "I have brought the babe to her face, yet her gaze is locked. Unmoving in her mind."

Rhaenyra sighed, her agitation for the princesses' ongoing sombre moods increasing. "Princess." The endearment lacked affection. "My darling girl. Do not let your boy suffer."

Rhaenyra hurriedly placed the babe in her arms, giving the princess no choice but to break from her melancholic haze. Her baby dragon wailed at first, quieting down as though he knew the chest in which he had been laid. His tears swiftly dried. His small mouth searched instinctively for his nourishment. She sighed, loosening her shift over one shoulder so he could latch on. Rocking him without thought, the notion just seemed natural. His soft coos between suckles were the first notes of contentment she had heard from him all morning.

Rhaenyra's gaze lingered upon her form. She could not tell if the look was disappointment or pity. The castle's eyes had long mirrored the same weight. Pity for the woman who had become a miserable shell of her former self. Disappointment for the mother who failed day after day. Judgement pressed in from every direction. Constantly humiliating her in its perseverance. To be looked upon by Rhaenyra with those burdened eyes. As though more were expected of her, it was a wound deeper than any blade. It weakened her further. Driving her back into the cold embrace of despair. Isolation began to feel safer than the world's constant scrutiny.

She could not bear it any longer. Her eyes flicked from Rhaenyra to the soft bundle in her arms. He was content, hands flailing for his mother's comfort. "I do not feel myself anymore." She admitted to no one in particular. Welcoming the world to carry her confession. She could not find it in her to care when everyone knew. Rhaenyra hummed in a silent agreement as though she, too, did not know the princess anymore.

"All he does is cry." She swallowed at the hard lump agitating the back of her throat. "All I do is cry." Her eyes rimmed red, closed as tears threatened. "I birthed him with all my sorrow. I have cursed my boy with endless suffering."

Her poor babe deserved more. It should have been Jacaerys here. He would have done better. He would never have abandoned their child to drown in his own grief. How could she look upon her child without remembering the times she lay motionless, listening to her dear babe's cries go unanswered? Already she had failed him, before she had even been given a true chance to try.

Her grief‑stricken admission broke Rhaenyra’s composure. The words, raw and steeped in self‑hatred, struck Rhaenyra with a misery of her own. "All babies come into the world screaming and crying. But look how his tears dry when he lies upon his mother's chest. You did not birth him with your sorrow."

It comforted her for a moment. It was true, the babe calmed the moment he lay upon her chest. Still filled with innocence. Trusting the embrace of his mother.

"Jacaerys laid with you with love in his heart. It was with joy that he cried for days when he learned you were with child. Think of all the happiness and love sewn into your babe's blood."

The memory drew a fragile smile to her lips. Jace had wept for days. His pride overflowing as he proclaimed to the world that their love had sired a child. He could scarcely look at her for too long without tears welling in his eyes. And it was true. They had brought forth a babe born of pure devotion. Her babe's blood tied by the passion their parents had shared. In that realisation, sorrow loosened its grip for a brief moment. She felt a flicker of relief, believing that Jace’s love remained with her still, cradled contentedly in her arms.

She was restless. Utterly restless as she waited for the day to arrive. As dawn broke, the thought of being readied into her bridal gown stirred a flicker of contentment within her. Her chest warmed with the notion. Tomorrow, she would finally be wed to her love. After months of pleading with her father, she finally bore fruit. Her final night alone dragged on endlessly. She ran the brush through her hair again and again, as though each stroke might hasten time. A peaceful smile lingered on her lips as she hummed softly to herself, suspended between impatience and anticipation.

Her chamber door cracked open, seeping light into the halls. She jumped from her seat at the sudden intrusion. Her eyes hurried to find familiarity in the figure. "Jace?"

"I apologise." He whispered in a hushed tone as though he wished not to invite eager, unsolicited ears. He diverted his eyes once he glanced at her. Prepared for bed in nothing but her shift, her form peeked beneath the sheer fabric.

Her face burned with a rosy red as she scurried to find her nightgown. "What business do you have in my chambers, my love?"

He turned, offering her a moment of privacy, however much he wished to leer upon her beautiful form. "Tomorrow we wed." His voice trembled with devotion, barely containing the swell of love that consumed him.

She felt similarly. Every moment carried a ball of anticipation in her belly. Her hands slid across his chest before curling around his neck. "I shall not sleep. My blood buzzes with joy."

He chuckled, hands wrestling on the dip of her waist. Carefully needing the soft flesh. "You must sleep. 'Tis the last night you shall sleep alone."

She leaned her chin upon his chest, a silent plea beneath her sweet gaze. "How do you leave me another night with the torture of your absence?"

His hands travelled lower. His palms are dancing with a possible invitation for more. "If you wish me to stay, I would not dream of leaving."

Her eyes widened, though they betrayed a gleam of desire. "Jace." She warned.

He only laughed softly, wrapping her in his arms, urging space to forsake them. The kisses fell in a trail starting upon her crown. Then her forehead. Her brow, her nose, her lips, her jaw. Her neck in the familiar spots he knew she loved before threatening lower. She gasped audibly. Never was he so brazen in their previous meetings. He halted, lingering for any sign of protest that she did not wish for more.

"We are to be wed, and we shall spend a lifetime with one another." He uttered, noticing as her chest heaved with a peculiar blend of anxiety and passion. "Longer than the time we have spent apart. What is one night sooner?"

"You think I will give in to temptation?" She chuckled. Her resolve faltered as he continued his attention.

His eyes echoed her desire, gleaming with possibilities the night had to offer. "You are a temptation itself."

She threw her head back, throat bubbling with sweet laughter. "Unfair, I was not lounging about my chambers, hoping you would barge in and glance upon what should be your surprise for your wedding night."

His smile was boyish, guilty yet unrepentant. "I got my surprise early. You are beautiful. Exquisite"

She flushed, hiding her face against his chest. His words carried the same adoration she had always known. Only now it was laced with hunger.

"Time is most cruel." She complained, nuzzling her head into the crook of his neck. Her eyelashes fluttered against his skin, sending shivers down his spine. "It's slow when we so wish for it to hurry."

"It's almost as though it is up to us to make the most of our time."

She thought of the wedding. In the singular moment, their hands would be bound. From then on, she would never know a day without him. The only regret she imagined in the years to come was that she had not loved him sooner. That she had not seized every fleeting moment before eternity stretched out before them. Even with forever promised, she longed to have gathered more of the present into her embrace.

"There might come a day I regret not spending another night with you." She muttered, her mind racing as she pondered the situation.

"Such a day will not come," he vowed, certain their hearts would never part.

"There is no wrong. We are to be wed so soon. Tomorrow will be ruled by merriment. I would hate for us to be so tired come the time we are alone."

"I shall never be devoid of energy in your presence."

She blushed, feeling the depths of his excitement upon her lower abdomen. "I can feel." She teased.

"I apologise, my love." Flushed with momentary shame, he pulled back as though not to force her to endure his desire.

"Do not. It warms my heart that you wish for me so desperately," she guided him until her knees brushed the bed. Falling back, she awaited his choice. "It warms me in more ways than one."

He did not follow, not yet, not til he was sure her wishes matched his own. "Do you wish for me to take my departure?"

She slowly shook her head, biting at the sensitive skin on her lips. Her hands reached for him, tugging at his tunic. He yielded, covering her body with the largeness of his own. Their lips met, and passion surged. His hands lingered at her knees, inching higher as desire overcame restraint.

She woke in a foul mood. From the moment she opened her eyes, the memories of last night crawled back. Unwelcome and unbidden. Oh, how she cursed the feast. Cursed those who attended. Cursed herself for going. Cursed her naivety. A feast meant as a celebration had soured into her own humiliation.

Every Lord and Lady had come upon the Queen's request. She had attended simply out of duty. She would rather have spent the evening listening to her son's soft coos as she read aloud poems Jacaerys once recited to her. But Rhaenyra had summoned her herself. Only upon arrival did she realise how suspicious the Queen's intentions were.

"Where is my son?" She demanded, tone still sharp from the night before.

The nursemaid barely looked up, paying no mind to the princess's tone. "He is with the queen, my lady."

She clenched her teeth. Agitation crawled up her spine as she stormed off, nursemaid on her tail. Each step weighed heavily with anger. She could not believe how Rhaenyra's scheming had blindsided her. It was not unusual for Rhaenyra to request her presence at such festivities. It was, however, highly unusual for her to encourage lords from houses she did not care to remember to entertain her all night. Lord after lord attempted to press her for dances, ply her with wine and vie for her attention. Their sudden interest perplexed her. That was until she later realised it was Rhaenyra's doing. It was the Queen's deliberate meddling.

"What are you doing?" She inquired, chest tight with fury.

Rhaenyra did not flinch. She tickled her grandson's belly, smiling. "He sat with me during counsel. He is to be King one day."

Her rage flared hotter. "He is far too young to begin his instruction. He does not need to be surrounded by hardened lords and their crude chatter." She lifted her pudgy babe, his hand reaching for the pendant swaying before his face, before handing him to the nursemaid. "His ears are too young for such poison."

"Princess, it is not an issue. I assure you the boy is fine." Rhaenyra attempted gently.

"That is solely my concern."

Rhaenyra's patience thinned. "He is my boy's son. It concerns me."

"He is my boy." She spat, teeth bare, defensive and ready to fight. "It will always concern me most."

The Queen’s composure cracked, anger threatening her as well. "Are you upset about last night's affairs?"

Her fury spilt over. "How dare you? How dare you encourage men to mingle with me? Have you no respect for your son? I was his wife. I do not need any lowly lord's flattery."

"It has been some time, princess. Months. You are alone." She attempted to reason with her. "No one in the realm would begrudge you if you opened your heart to love again."

She shook her head. Her body recoiled at the thought. "It is not open to love, nor does it desire love."

"You will forsake love entirely?" Rhaenyra pressed, her presence firm but not domineering. "Why? Must you still punish yourself? Does guilt eat at you still? You are not incapable of love, nor will a new love replace Jace. You are allowed to love."

"I will not speak on this matter anymore." The mention of Jace’s name struck a raw nerve. She screeched, as though the wound had been torn open anew. "You may be Queen, but this is beyond your realm of rule. You will not orchestrate such treachery against my love again." She turned to leave, her son fussing at the sharpness of her tone. "And do not take my son from his crib without consulting me," she warned.

Rhaenyra scoffed, shaking her head. "I have had many sons, princess-"

She turned on her heel, her anger preventing her from knowing better than not to feed into every fight "So you know better?"

The implication was there, it hung heavy, and it did not escape Rhaenyra's notice. The queen had stiffened as though preparing herself for the worst of the princess's blows. She ought to back down now, to tuck her head and hurry out before she truly regrets her words. But she could not.

These days, she was quick to rage. It seemed day by day she was tested. She was never someone quick to anger, a trait Jace had acknowledged himself. Though now it was though there was always a simmering pit of anger at the base of her stomach waiting for anyone to ignite it.

"Speak then", Rhaenyra's voice was cold and challenging.

"What will you have me say?" she hissed. Resentment long and festering finally broke free. She looked around her in mock search. "Where are your boys?"

The words hung heavy. She regretted them instantly. She knew how Rhaenyra loved her sons. How little she wished for them to be complicit in the war. But grief clawed for blame, for someone to carry the weight she could not. Had her whole family not waged war, she would not be without a husband. Her boy would not be without a father.

"With what foulness has corrupted your heart?" Rhaenyra spat back her offence mounting. Her voice was laced with signs that she genuinely felt hurt by the girl's words. "I don't recall this woman as the one my son begged for. You think he peers upon you with pride? Where is that girl?"

"Gone."

"No, she stands before me. Hidden beneath her cowardness. Incapable. Bowing to fear."

She huffed a sardonic laugh, breaking halfway into a sob, she refused to let escape "What do you know of what I fear?"

"You fear life beyond my boy. You fear there is life after his death. You do not know yourself because you fear discovering what you can be without him."

"Save me your lectures. I need not hear it from you."

"Heed not to mine. Lecture me openly I shall save you from any punishment. What do you have to say?"

Her voice faltered, guilt twisting into accusation. “Was it worth it? He fought for you. He died for you. And yet it was not you who reaped the consequence. It was not you who was struck down. Was it worth your boys? Was the throne worth it?”

"I did not wish for my son to fight my battles." Rhaenyra faltered, her voice cracking under the weight of loss.

Her throat burned, tears spilling freely now. “And yet he did. And still you sit upon your throne as though unscathed. All I see is the woman who got what she wanted at the expense of everyone. I bleed openly from a wound that will never close. As far as I know, my son lives, and yours do not. I do not need lectures from such a mother. It will always concern me most."

She turned from the hall, ignoring Rhaenyra’s further words. Hot tears rained down her face. A storm perpetually swirling within her chest. She needed someone to take the blame. For anyone to admit this war had not been worth it. Everyone else seemed to move on. They had exempted themselves from the ruin they had wrought. But she was still here, carrying grief like a brand upon her chest. Searching for someone to grieve him as openly as she did. Searching for someone to understand that her love had not died with him.

Sunlight pressed through the lace curtains, the delicate beams scattering across the chamber. The air still carried a faint perfume of oils and candle wax mingling with the faint smell of their coupling. Light bounced off the sheets covering their tangled bodies. Their love lay exposed to the tender glow of dawn.

She stirred, twisting in the sheets and mess of limbs. Her eyes caught the rising sun. Beside her, Jacaerys law sprawled in perfect contentment. His dark curls haloed by the light. His breath was steady and untroubled by the world. The sight of him so unguarded and utterly hers made her chest ache with sweetness,

Yet the world beyond this bed was already stirring. The muffled clatter of servants echoed through the stone walls. A reminder that time was not theirs alone. She clutched the sheets to her chest. Her limbs still tangled with his. Her heart leapt as the memory struck her straight to her chest. Their wedding. Today. In mere hours, the entire realm would bear witness to their union.

"Go, you must go now." Her eyes widened, urgency breaking through the haze of love. She shook him gently, whispering, "My ladies will be here soon. They cannot see us in such a state." Jacaerys blinked awake, groggy, his lashes heavy with sleep. He rubbed his eyes, protesting with a low sound that made her blush despite herself.

He did not move with such haste, preferring to wake slowly. He only chuckled, slow and lazy, his smile softening her panic. His body held on to no shame. He did not hide from her nudity, nor his own. Rather, he gazed at her with unyielding adoration, as though their love was the only truth in this world. "Let me look upon you one last time," he teased, his voice deep and husky. His words meant to wring laughter from her worry.

"Jace, you will see me tonight and every night after that. You will indulge in those moments henceforth. You must take your leave. We do not have time."

He did not listen. He gathered her into his arms. The sheets fell uselessly to the floor. "No, let me look upon you one more time. I beg, my love." His hands trailed lazily up her sides before lingering at the pendant still resting upon her chest. The only thing they had not discarded the night before. He did not say much for a while, his eyes just peering into her own. His eyes flickered watching her, as though he was deep in thought.

"What difference shall it make from tonight?" She chuckled, blushing and still trying to cover herself with whatever sheet she could grasp from him.

"Because we will never be here again." He murmured softly. His voice gave no way that this was meant to tease. "I will never be a love-struck boy again. I will be a man. A husband." His words silenced the world around them, honing in on the space between their bodies. Only for them. Her heart pounded at the words. Stilling at his admission before rapidly pounding beneath her ribs. Her brain turned with the implication. This would be the last moment before they were man and wife. Their days of clandestine meetings were over. Never would they have the need to hide and steal moments when time now offered them the world.

"I will never know you like this again." He said, casting each sheet aside. This time, she did not fight for the sheets back but rather let him remove any barrier between them. She could not find it in her to care about the discarded sheets or how she lay bare before him. His words had undone her, stripped her of fear more thoroughly than his hands ever could.

He kissed her in a blazing trail with pure love. First her stomach, her chest, her throat, then her cheek. Each was a promise. "I am prepared to love you in every way you come to me." He mumbled between kisses. "Change how you please, there will never be a version of you I will not love."

She melted her mind, clouded with only him. Her apprehension left her as they tangled their limbs once more, bodies closing in on one another. He pulled back and bumped his nose against hers in affection. "But let me love you one more time just as you are now. I have the privilege to love you in every way for the rest of time. I do not want to miss a moment."

All fight left her, surrendering as the sun climbed higher. She melted into his form, tangling them limbs once more. Time was not a worry when they had forever to share it. They did not need to worry about the sunrise or the maids. Not when time bent to their will. This moment would stretch on before it would fall into the funny grips of time.

The sun rose high in the sky, glimmering against the last signs of rain clinging to every leaf. The earth felt warm beneath her, releasing the final moments of the day before night came to claim it.

Her child crawled on the grass, fingers tugging at the blades to reveal the soil beneath them. Dark, wet and fragrant with the smell of replenished earth. He giggled at his discovery. His joys knew no bounds, his world vast and waiting for him. She smiled, a warmth blossoming through her chest as she watched her baby dragon. She encouraged him. Encouraged his happiness, his fearlessness. For him to explore without fear of the hidden anguish in this world.

Rhaenyra slowly approached, her presence heavy after weeks of silence. Shame had kept her away from Rhaenyra. Guilt gnawed at her stomach for striking the wound of loss. A loss they both shared. Only the two could understand the pain of such a wound. The love for their child, and the hollow ache left behind once they were gone.

Lowering herself beside the princess, Rhaenyra’s gaze softened at the boy’s unbridled joy. “He reminds me so much of Jace at that age,” she murmured, extending a fragile branch of peace.

She felt her throat tighten, only nodding. Words would betray her if she dared open her mouth. So for some time her eyes remained fixed on her child as though searching for herself in his reflection. A familiarity she had lost quite some time ago.

"I do not know me, my lady," she confessed at last, her voice trembling under the weight of uncertainty.

"Few of us do, when sorrow endures." Rhaenyra's voice held no judgment, just opportunity.

"I will always miss Jacaerys." She admitted, though her tears were slow to come. So often she had cried, she did not have it in her anymore to shed another tear. "He was my love, and I knew only the love he gave. Grief has become my sole companion. So constant I do not remember life without it. Happiness and warmth are momentary. It always yields to this permanent ache. I miss him," She admitted her voice wavering as she struggled to admit what she held so hidden for so long, "but i miss myself too."

"Sorrow has its way in forcing change. It carves us whether we will it to or not."

"I was not ignorant. We were at war. I had thought many times he may not return. I knew there was that chance and I knew if it happened I would experience the depths of grief." She admitted, the words ashy in her mouth. The wind threatened the spill every secret it carried. "But I believed I would not change. That this grief would weigh upon my chest, but that it would still be my chest."

She diverted her gaze, her eyes drifting to her son. He crawled, babbling a plethora of nonsense without knowledge of his mother’s pain. She smiled, happy for a moment that her son was happy. Her heart was grateful that his joy was untouched. How often she prayed he would never have to endure such sorrow.

"I keep remembering the person I was with Jace. These memories I play on loop everyday. Remembering me and that I was still the woman he loved and that love would help me carry on now that he is gone." Tears threatened, her eyes rimmed red. "But I am not that girl in those memories anymore."

Rhaenyra only nodded. She knew better than the way in which grief stormed through the world, carving its change with no regard for who it harmed. How few people came unscathed by its touch. She, too, had lost more than most, fragments of her heart scattered across the graves of children she would forever miss.

"I wish I were as fearless as Jace. He courted me openly, defied my father, and asked for my hand without hesitation. He came to me simply because he wished for me." She admitted smiling, though her eyes betrayed the constant ache. But the memories were too sweet to bow down to this constant grief.

"Jace was unlike you in many ways. You cannot keep searching for answers within him. He can do no more than leave you loved. He cannot live for you. Your boy cannot live for you." Her voice held a motherly tone she had heard so often when Rhaenyra addressed Jace.

"I fear I died with him."

Rhaenyra sucked in a harsh breath, "You did not-"

"No. I did not die with him." Her smile was pained, "That is what I fear. That for so long I believed I was gone, and it hurts to wake some days knowing I am here. Alive with purpose still. It feels wrong. Unfair."

Rhaenyra nodded. Death did not know how to play fair. Many were taken, though they deserved better. "Death seldom bows to fairness." She agreed, her brows furrowed in contemplation. "Though it is better to live, no matter how brief the moment. The moment Jace had was beautiful. He was loved from the moment he came into this world to his very last breath."

She nodded, a pained smile gracing her lips. Rhaenyra was right. However brief he was here. Jace was here. Beautifully alive for just a moment, and she of all people had the privilege to bask in just how lovely he was. For so long in her life, all she knew was happiness because of him.

"I will not love again." It was not an attempt at punishing herself, but rather her admitting a truth.

"Do not deny yourself love, just because you lost yours."

"No, that is not it. This is not punishment. I was luckier than most. From the moment I met Jace, I was never unloved. To live through such unwavering devotion was unlike anything I will experience. For that, I am grateful, but I loved just as strongly as he had. I've given all my love. To Jace and our boy. I was allowed to love Jace for a moment, and my boy, I will love for a lifetime. I have no love left to give but to myself."

Rhaenyra smiled through her words, the last of the sun warming the earth to lull them into a moment of content. "Jace would be proud of you."

Her eyes flickered between memories of Jace, just as she had for so many months now, before flickering to their child. For a fleeting moment, the world was still. The ache remained. Grief still pressed upon her chest, but slowly it made space for peace. The last light of day kissed her skin, and she breathed. Alive and grateful, for she was at last at peace.